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Hearts' 


'  '  GOODXESS,    BUT    YOU'RE    SWEET  !  ' 

(page   137) 


<SAnd  Decoraiiom 
ifieodore^B.  H 


Cop^nent,  ic)oc),by 

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19°9 


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1 '  GOODNESS,       BUT       YOU'RE 
SWEET!'"  .        ./>*?  137) 


THIS   Is   MY  AGE   BOOK.     I 
ALWAYS  CARRY  IT,'  HE  Ex- 


PLAINED"       ....     Facing  page       18 


'  JANE,  TELL  ME,  DOES 
SANTA  CLAUS  MAKE  LIVE 
THINGS?'"  . 


"  A  MERCILESS  SILENCE  REIGNED 
WHILE  HE  WAITED  "  . 


rx  \    * 

M 


OH-H  !  YOU'RE  MY — 
REALLY — MOTHER,  AREN'T 
You?'" 


V 


v' 


k 

~/& 


tit 


JM 

o         t  <a,^- 

\/i 

VI 

-  .•**  / 

l'-.    O 

Ai 

x^f/* 

Sto    o 

a 

pter    /|f 

ne   j^rr^ 

\\  \       , 
^\  m^ 

o 

JOHN  BELDEN'S  heart  was  heavy.  He 
felt  as  though  he  had  swallowed  something 
big  and  hard  and,  whatever  it  might  be,  it 
was  growing  bigger  and  harder  every  min 
ute.  His  legs  were  tired — his  feet  dragged 
as  he  walked.  The  load  was  almost  more 
than  he  could  carry. 

To  the  passer-by,  the  little  figure  in 
leather  leggins,  long  ulster  and  close-fitting 
fez  cap  plodding  through  the  snow  ap 
peared  as  a  sleepy,  unwilling  pedestrian 
who  potentially  might,  could,  would  or 
should  be  in  bed.  In  the  prosaic  mind  of 
Jane  Austin,  who  guided  his  course  not 
only  in  this  particular  instance  but  in  most 
of  the  affairs  of  life,  the  weariness  and  utter 
lack  of  animal  spirits  was  wholly  due  to 
the  dissipation  of  the  afternoon — his  first 
party,  of  which  she  highly  disapproved; 


. 


*¥^ 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

real  animosity  being  entertained  toward  the 
chocolate  candies  and  ice  cream  Santa 
Claus  reposing  in  John's  inner  parts.  Just 
at  bed-time,  too! 

Now  it  must  not  be  inferred  Jane  Austin 
was  an  ogress,  not  in  the  least;  but  she  was 
fifty,  and  her  world  was  very  small,  and 
sparsely  settled,  with  few  outlooks,  from 
which  she  never  looked,  and  no  diversions. 

It  had  enlarged  but  little  in  the  past 
twenty  years  and  at  no  time  admitted  much 
of  even  primitive  ice  cream  and  stick  candy, 
while  frivolity  in  a  more  definitely  alluring 
guise  was  not  presented  for  consideration. 

Taking  John,  a  motherless  babe  a  month 
old,  he  had  been  for  seven  years  the  axis 
of  her  sphere.  She  circled  round  him  un 
ceasingly,  varying  little  in  her  daily  course, 
and  never  raising  her  eyes  to  see  what  other 
people  thought,  or  what  the  rest  of  the 
world  was  doing,  and  so,  completely  ab 
sorbed  in  her  one  duty,  Jane  was  prone  to 
lose  sight  of  the  flight  of  time  and  the 


O        <»  00 


Their   Hearts'  Desire 

necessary  changes  in  the  regime  of  a  grow 
ing  boy,  and  many  regulations  governing 
John  as  a  toddler  might  still  have  been 
in  force  at  the  age  of  seven  but  for  the 
interference  of  his  father  or  Aunt  Sue,  who 
came  once  in  a  while  to  visit  them.  And 
no  amendment  to  the  laws  of  the  nursery, 
or  single  departure  therefrom,  was  ever 
accomplished  without  a  vigorous  remon 
strance  from  Jane. 

With  this  glimpse  of  her  character,  we 
may  readily  surmise  that  John's  enjoyment 
of  the  afternoon  was  a  special  dispensation 
of  his  father's.  Jane  would  never  have 
been  guilty  of  such  weakness! 

John  Belden  was  seven,  and,  of  course, 
his  world  was  small,  too.  But,  unlike 
Jane's,  it  was  one  of  boundless  possibilities, 
and  its  horizon  widened  daily.  For  with 
an  inquiring  mind  of  unusually  quick  per 
ception  and  a  loving,  responsive  nature,  he 
saw  much  and  felt  keenly. 

Each  newly  discovered  wonder  and  mys- 


o  «?  c    c* 


o  «      O       O 


Q  00« 


ft* 


.'  A 


ft 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

tery  of  the  universe  appealed  to  him,  from 
the  marvel  of  the  moon  and  stars  to  the 
coming  of  four  teeny-weeny  gray  kittens  to 
Jane's  old  cat;  kittens  that  could  not  see  at 
all,  and  that  were  quite  too  weak  to  walk 
even  a  part  of  the  way. 

And  then  John's  first  year  of  school  was 
opening  up  such  a  lot  of  things  to  learn  and 
do,  and  things  not  to  do,  that  this  young 
idea  began  to  shoot  with  vigor;  not  only 
in  prescribed  lines,  but  in  spots  and  direc 
tions  unforeseen,  and,  for  the  curriculum  of 
the  school-room,  undesired.  And  the  daily 
companionship  of  children — that  was  rap 
idly  developing  his  talent  for  the  vicissi 
tudes  of  life.  His  vision  broadening,  the 
whys  of  the  world  began  to  compass  him 
about  and  with  increased  sensibilities  came 
definite  desire  and  vague  longings. 

John's  love  for  Jane  was  part  of  his  life, 
a  habit  of  his  existence.  As  she  had  served 
him  from  the  first,  so  long  had  he  loved 
her,  and  her  affection,  always  finding  ex- 


o  o 


Their   Hearts'  Desire 

pression  in  established,  unvarying  lines,  de 
veloped  an  element  of  loyalty  in  him  far  in 
excess  of  any  other  feeling.  And  so  while 
he  found  the  faithful  loving  hand  of  a 
mother,  he  sought  in  vain  for  the  sympa 
thetic  understanding  of  the  maternal  heart. 

He  went  to  her  with  his  bumps  and 
bruises;  he  was  sure  of  succor.  He  knew 
almost  with  certainty  just  what  remedy 
would  be  applied  for  each  particular  kind 
of  wound.  He  even  knew  where  they,  the 
remedies,  were  kept.  He  was  conscious, 
too,  that  Jane  was  ever  ready  to  give  him 
anything  he  wished  for  that  was  right  for 
him  to  have,  but  his  griefs  and  disappoint 
ments,  and  most  cherished  dreams,  often 
the  fanciful  expression  of  the  real  needs  of 
a  child,  he  confided  to  Adam,  and  Adam 
was  a  dog. 

It  was  almost  six  o'clock  this  December 
night;  Jo  Strong's  birthday,  and  three  days 
till  Christmas. 

John  had  hailed  this  latter 
13 


lit 


or 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

earlier  in  the  day,  but  now  emerging  from 
the  light  and  warmth  of  Jo's  home  into  the 
darkness  and  cold,  somehow  everything 
seemed  behind  him  but  bed — and  that 
doesn't  count  with  a  boy.  Consequently, 
his  mind  reverted  to  the  events  of  the  after 
noon  for  comfort,  but  with  poor  success, 
for  the  very  things  he  recalled  with  greatest 
pleasure  only  served  to  increase  his  present 
gloom. 

Three  hours  before,   he   and   Jane  had 

'  J 

passed  over  the  same  ground  on  the  way  to 
the  party.  Then  the  sun  was  shining  in 
the  world,  and  in  John's  heart,  and  before 
him  lay  the  object  of  many  days'  joyful 
anticipation.  Even  Jane's  worst  forebod 
ings  had  paled  a  little  under  his  enthusiasm. 
Arriving  at  the  Strongs'  house,  she  had 
taken  him  up  to  remove  his  wraps  and  then 
down-stairs,  where  she  left  him  scoured 
within  an  inch  of  his  life;  his  hair  brushed 
to  stringent  smoothness,  every  line  of  his 
attire  and  character  properly  adjusted. 
14 


Their   Hearts'  Desire 

He  found  everything  quite  equal  to  his 
expectations,  in  some  regards  quite  exceed 
ing  them,  since  the  beautiful  and  artistic 
had  not  figured  in  his  speculations.  And 
there  were  many  of  the  boys  and  girls  he 
knew  at  school  and  while  they,  like  himself, 
were  at  first  in  the  semi-hypnotic  state  in 
duced  by  parting  injunctions  and  the  fear 
of  wrecking  the  family  honor  should  any 
one  of  these  by  chance  be  forgotten, 
a  rollicking  game  of  "  Blind  Man's 
Buff "  had  awakened  all  dormant  sensi 
bilities  and  put  to  rout  abnormal  moral 
conditions. 

It  was  as  Blind  Man  that  he  first  saw 
Her,  and  that  was  really  the  beginning  of 
things. 

Now  John  loved  the  beautiful  in  every 
thing,  and  She  was  beautiful — beautiful  as 
the  Princess  in  a  fairy  tale,  in  her  white 
gown;  and  her  soft  brown  hair,  radiant 
smile  and  the  dimple  in  her  chin  fascinated 
him ;  while  the  scarlet  bandage  covering  her 
15 


o  •  tit  a  *     a      e  e 


e        o  e  • 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

eyes  supplied  just  the  little  mystic  air  that 
makes  a  fairy  Princess  irresistible. 

Hence  John's  capitulation  was  complete. 
He  stood  transfixed,  forgetting  the  children 
and  what  the  scarlet  bandage  really  meant. 
The  idea  of  avoiding  the  outstretched 
searching  hands  of  the  "  Blind  Man  "  did 
not  occur  to  him.  So  he  was  caught,  of 
course,  and  stood  a  happy  captive,  little 
quivers  running  up  and  down  his  spine  and 
the  back  of  his  legs,  as  soft  hands  glided 
over  face  and  head  on  down  to  his  shoulders, 
farther,  even  to  his  hands,  in  search  of  some 
identifying  point. 

Game  followed  game,  and  She  was  the 
life  of  them  all,  only  pausing  to  tie  hair 
ribbons,  shoe  strings  and  sashes,  some  of 
which  he  had  untied;  put  safety  pins  in 
place  of  missing  buttons,  and  administer 
comfort  to  the  bumped  and  bruised,  and 
loving  justice  to  the  quarrelsome;  and 
finally,  at  table  adjusting  napkins  comforta 
bly  and  filling  plates  with  a  fine  regard  for 

16 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

correct  proportions  and  a  glorious  disre 
gard  for  consequences.  And  John,  in  an 
exposed  position,  midway  the  festive  board, 
with  an  expanse  of  temptation  on  either 
side,  gave  Jane  one  fleeting  thought  and 
abandoned  himself  to  the  delights  of  for 
bidden  things  and  a  chivalrous  effort  to 
verify  Her  generous  judgment  of  his  accom 
plishments. 

He  tried  to  be  near  Her  in  the  games, 
but  she  was  ever  flitting  from  place  to  place, 
and  there  were  other  admirers,  perhaps  a 
trifle  less  ardent,  but  often  in  the  way.  And 
so,  despite  persistent  effort  and  some  subter 
fuge,  John  had  not  been  wholly  satisfied 
with  his  lot. 

Once,  near  the  close  of  the  afternoon,  he 
spied  her  sitting  alone  in  a  corner  and 
promptly  sidled  over  and  took  a  stand  by 
her  chair.  She  turned  and  smiled  at  him, 
and  he  smiled  back,  waiting  for  further 
developments. 

She  asked  his  name,  and  he  told  her,  and 


/No  o.«--:5v  o 


o  o  • 


l\^  Jy 
W 


K 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

then  her  hand  closed  upon  one  of  his  rest 
ing  on  the  arm  of  the  chair. 

"  How  ©Id  are  you,  John?  "  she  ques 
tioned. 

"  Seven.  The  boys  say  I  am  little,  but,1 
with  rising  spirit,  "  I'll  bet  I'll  grow  to  be 
a  big  man  like  my  father — 'cause  he  was 
little,  too,  until  he  got  on  trousers — and 
then  he  grew  a  lot!  Aunt  Sue  says  all  our 
'  fambly '  grow  a  lot  when  they  get  on 
trousers." 

"Oh!  I  am  sure  you  will,  too,"  giving 
his  hand  a  squeeze. 

There  was  a  lull — the  subject  seemed  ex 
hausted,  and  she  absorbed  in  other  things- 
John  felt  the  necessity  of  providing  some 
thing  new  for  consideration.  With  sudden 
impulse,  he  drew  a  small  memorandum 
book  from  his  pocket  and  opened  it. 

"  This  is  my  age  book.  I  always  carry 
it,"  he  explained.  "  I'll  put  you  down,  if 
you  want  me  to.  See,"  leaning  confidingly 

against  her,  and  turning  the  leaves  slowly. 

18 


O     ft  O      O 


THIS      IS     MY     AGE      BOOK.       I      ALWAYS      CARRY      IT,'      HE 
EXPLAINED  " 


^r:**::5*^ 
Their   Hearts'  Desire 

"  There's  Jane's — fifty, — fifty- two,  that's  for 
Cook;  Daddy's — thirty-eight;  and  seven, 
that's  for  me."  At  the  next  page  he  hesi 
tated.  On  it,  in  irregular  but  unmistakable 
figures  was  one  hundred.  "  Jesus  is  a  hun 
dred,"  he  finally  announced,  "  and  a  thou 
sand,"  turning  another  leaf,  "  that's  for 
God.  He's  the  oldest  person  I  know.  I 

he  added  regret- 
he   closed    the   book    and    stood 
thoughtfully  tracing  with  his  fore-finger  the 
gold  lettering  of  the  advertising  Insurance 
Company  on  the  cover. 

A  silence  John  did  not  understand  but 
which  he  felt  to  be  most  comfortable  en 
sued,  and  then  "Who  is  Aunt  Sue?"  she 
asked  gently. 

He  slipped  the  book  into  his  pocket  and 
faced  her,  his  face  glowing  with  enthusi 
asm. 

Oh,  she's  my  aunt—          She  lives  in 


haven't  got  Aunt  Sue, 
fully,    as 


the  country  in  an  awful  nice  place— a  big 

yard — with  trees  in  it  'at  you  can  climb  if 

19 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

Nurse  is  busy — and  beautifullest  roses — 
and  a  barn — and  a  plain  hired  man.  Gee!  " 
with  an  emphasizing  shake  of  his  head,  "  I 
like  him, — and  snakes,  just  little  ones,"  re 
assuringly,  seeing  that  she  did  not  enthuse. 
"  I  wouldn't  let  them  bite  you — and  great 
big  '  high-ball '  bushes.  I  mean,"  with 
an  emphasizing  nod,  "  I  mean  snow-ball 
bushes.  My  daddy  planted  them  when  he 
lived  there  a  long  time  ago."  This  with 
much  pride. 

She  regarded  him  with  suppressed  amuse 
ment  for  a  moment,  then  laughed  softly 
to  herself  and  John  laughed  too,  without 
in  the  least  knowing  why. 

"  I  love  the  country,  too,"  she  told  him 
presently,  "  the  flowers  and  grass,  and  I 
like  to  climb  "  —but  here  an  array  of  hair 
ribbons  were  presented  for  attention,  and 
John  was  unceremoniously  pushed  aside. 

He  stood  apart  marvelling.  To  think  of 
it!  She  could  climb.  She  wasn't  afraid, 
and  liked  it,  too.  That  was  the  finishing 


t 


A    0  a 


SK^"^fc^ 

Their   Hearts'  Desire 

touch,  only,  he  did  wish  he  knew  what  it 
was  she  liked  to  climb.  He  feared  it  was 
a  common  cross-barred  fence  but  he  hoped, 
oh,  how  he  hoped  it  was  a  tree! 

Longing  for  a  chance  to  continue  the  con 
versation,  he  waited  near,  but  as  soon  as 
the  ribbons  were  tied,  William  Gordon's 
mother  came  in,  followed  very  shortly  by 
other  mothers,  so  her  attention  was  quite 
taken  up  with  grown  folks,  while  the  grown 
folks'  respective  offspring  went  up-stairs  to 
don  hats  and  coats. 

John  wished  there  was  some  one  to  come 
and  claim  him  right  before  them  all — of 
course  he  knew  Jane  would  be  waiting  up 
stairs — but  some  one  in  soft  furs  and  a 
feathery  hat.  Jane  never  wore  furs,  and 
her  hats  were  always  stiff  and  depressingly 
even  all  round.  No  one  else  would  come 
for  him,  of  course,  and  there  was  no  use 
waiting  about,  so  he  went  with  his  host 
to  make  a  final  raid  on  the  dining  table  for 
candy. 


Their   Hearts'  Desire 

On  his  return  he  found  that  almost  every 
body  had  gone.  He  looked  around  for 
Mrs.  Strong.  He  had  not  thought  of  her 
hefore,  but  now  wondered  where  she  had 
been  all  afternoon.  He  wished  to  bid  her 
good-night,  as  instructed  by  Jane;  a  vague 
idea  of  having  strayed  from  the  straight  and 
narrow  path  on  divers  occasions,  firing 
his  passion  for  implicit  obedience  as  a 
finish. 

Learning  from  Jo  that  his  mother  was 
upstairs,  he  followed  the  example  of  the 
other  guests  and  advanced  to  pay  his  re 
spects  to  Her,  offering  a  limp,  perfunctory 
hand. 

She  took  it  and  smiled  down  upon  him. 
"  Good-night,"  she  said. 

John  said  nothing.  It  all  seemed  so 
meaningless,  so  inadequate.  It  was  not  at 
all  the  way  he  wished  to  say  good-night. 
He  raised  hungry  expectant  eyes  to  her 
face. 

"  I  hope  you  have  had  a  happy  time,"  she 


. 


• 


Their   Hearts'  Desire 
added  in  response,  laying  her  arm  about 
his  shoulders. 

u  Oh,  a  dandy  time!  "  encouraged  by  her 
tone,  and  he  would  have  asked  her  more 
about  the  climbing,  but  again  some  one  in 
terposed,  and  he  disconsolately  withdrew. 

In  the  hall  he  met  a  little  girl  in  white 
with  accompaniments  of  blue,  whose  sash 
he  had  surreptitiously  untied  during  the 
afternoon's  frolic,  and  whose  indignant 
glance  had  rested  upon  him  more  than  once, 
but  now,  with  the  delicious  inconsistency 
of  her  sex,  she  smiled  and  slipped  her  hand 
in  his. 

"  I  don't  want  to  go  home,  do  you?  "  she 
said,  as  they  reached  the  foot  of  the  stairs. 

"  No,  I  don't,"  said  John. 

They  went  up  several  steps  in  silence  and 
mutual  discontent.  Then  she  stopped  and 
turned  to  share  with  him  her  crumb  of 
comfort.  "  Do  you  want  to  come  to  my 
party?" 

John  balanced  himself  on  one  foot,  and 


«     o       o  o 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

looked  at  her  in  pleased  surprise.  Her 
name  was  Emily.  Emily — what,  he  did 
not  know,  or  where  she  lived. 

"  Yes,  I'll  come,"  he  answered,  advanc- 
ing  to  the  step  above.  '  When  is  it  going 
to  be?" 

She  grasped  his  hand  with  both  of  hers 
and  hopped  up  beside  him.  "  I'll  ask  my 
mother  if  I  can  have  you,"  she  announced 
cordially  as  she  landed. 

"Oh!"  said  John. 

They  had  reached  the  first  landing. 

"  Can't  you  come  a  wee  bit  faster?  "  un 
expectedly  a  voice  urged  from  above. 
Looking  up,  John  saw  Jane,  and  the  little 
girl  saw  her,  too,  and  after  an  instant's 
curious  regard  leaned  toward  him,  covering 
her  mouth  with  one  small  hand.  "  Is  that 
your  mother?  "  she  whispered. 

John  looked  again  at  the  waiting  figure 
above  and  then  at  his  companion.  Instinc 
tively  he  dropped  her  hand  and  backed 

away  against  the  balustrade  while  he  hesi- 

j     & 


a  o       Q         Q  O 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

tated.  Somehow  the  question  disturbed  him. 
He  shrank  from  it  and  her,  for  the  note 
of  surprise  and  curiosity  in  the  accented 
word  had  not  escaped  him;  he  felt  it  differ 
entiated  himself  as  well  as  Jane  in  some 
indefinable  way. 

"  No,  she's  just — a  good  friend  of  mine," 
he  faltered  and  hurrying  on  ahead  fol 
lowed  Jane  into  the  bedroom  for  his 
wraps. 

'  Why,  you're  the  very  last  to  come  up, 
John,"  she  commented,  stooping  to  adjust 
his  leggings.  "  Have  you  had  a  good 
time?" 

"  Awful  good."  The  answer  carried  con 
viction  without  enthusiasm.  Jane  thought 
it  quite  too  brief  to  be  natural,  considering 
the  subject.  On  the  look-out  for  symptoms, 
she  instantly  attributed  it  to  satiety  in  a 
malignant  form. 

"  What  did  you  have  for  supper?  "  in  a 
despondent  voice. 

John  told  her  in  detail,  omitting  nothing. 
25 


o  o  <»  O  o  a       o        O  O 


o         o  o  « 


Their   Hearts'  Desire 

11  But  you,"  anxiously,  "  what  did  you 
eat,  John?" 

"  Everything." 

Jane  uttered  not  a  syllable,  but  got  her 
charge  into  his  wraps  as  quickly  as  possible, 
which  was  not  very  quick,  since  he  seemed 
disinclined  to  help  himself. 

But  at  last,  the  task  accomplished,  he 
followed  her  through  the  upper  hall  and 
down  the  stairs.  The  house  appeared  quite 
deserted.  They  saw  no  one,  and  perfect 
silence  reigned,  except  for  the  faint  sound 
of  retreating  voices  and  low  laughter;  and 
then  somewhere  a  door  closed — closed 
softly,  gently,  but  still,  it  closed,  increasing 
the  air  of  finality  that  oppressed  him. 

At  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  he  lingered  an 
instant;  his  eyes  bent  dreamily  upon  the 
floor  strewn  with  bright  bits  of  paper,  holly 
berries  and  forgotten  or  discarded  favors. 
Close  to  his  feet  lay  a  bow  of  pale  blue 
ribbon.  It  recalled  Emily — and  other 

things.     Picking  it  up,  he  reached  to  lay 
26 


o   o  o 


<F 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

it  on  the  newel-post,  shattering,  as  he  did 
so,  a  full  blown  American  Beauty  rose  from 
the  vase  above. 

Just  then  the  center  lights  went  out.     Im 
pulsively  he  turned  and  hastened  after  Jane, 
but  before  the  library  door  again  he  paused, 
for  She  sat  within,  leaning  wearily  back  in 
a  big  cushioned  chair,  one  hand  falling  list 
lessly  over  the  arm,  while  the  other,  holding 
a  bunch  of  little  purple  flowers,  lay  in  her    ^ 
lap.     Though   she   smiled,   her  eyes  were    # 
closed — perhaps  she  was  a  sleeping  Prin 
cess,  and  this  a  forsaken  palace. 

vv 

Away  off,  as  far  as  he  could  think,  John 
heard  the  closing  of  another  door.  He  held 
his  breath.  Now  she  was  quite  alone.  If 
only  he  might  stay! 

His   pulses   quickened,  he  drew  a  step   ^ 
nearer,  and  then — Jane  took  him  gently  but 
firmly  by  the  hand  and  led  him  out  into  the 
night. 

For    months    John    Belden    had    been   ^ 

haunted  by   a  vague   longing  which   had 

27 


: 


a 


•  o  • 


.  if 


Their   Hearts'  Desire 

never  taken  more  distinct  form  than  a  re 
current  wish  that  Jane  was  different.  He 
did  not  know  why,  for  Jane  he  knew  was 
good.  He  felt  almost  sure  she  had  never 
done  anything  wrong  in  her  life.  He  al 
most  wished  she  had.  But  this  longing,  the 
companionship  and  experience  of  the  after 
noon  had  developed,  and  the  satisfying  per 
sonality  of  his  new  friend,  the  presence 
of  so  many  beautiful  mothers,  and  the  little 
girl's  questions  on  the  stairs,  had  all  tended 
to  clear  his  mental  atmosphere  of  doubts 
and  perplexity,  so  that  by  the  time  he 
reached  the  street,  a  perfect  realization  of 
what  he  most  wanted  in  the  whole  world 
absorbed  him,  and  he  felt  dreadfully  alone. 

He  could  not  think  of  another  boy  or 
girl,  not  one,  who  did  not  have  a  real  live 
mother. 

There  was  a  beautiful  picture  of  some  one 
on  the  library  wall  at  home — a  mother  that 
they  said  was  his,  only — well,  once  or  twice 

when  alone  with  Adam,  he  had  called  her 

28 


Y 


/•' 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

softly  to  see  if  anything  would  happen,  and 
she  had  not  even  answered.  Perhaps  she 
did  not  know  him,  she  went  away  so  long 
ago,  and  was  never  coming  back,  why,  no 
one  seemed  to  know,  not  even  Daddy,  and 
Daddy  had  told  him  a  lot  about  her  too,  how 
sweet  and  good  she  was,  about  her  eyes  and 
mouth  and  hair,  even  about  her  hands  "  so 
beautiful  and  tender."  John  always  re 
membered  those  words,  "  beautiful  and 
tender  "  —her  hands,  and  he  wished  that  he 
could  see  them  in  the  picture. 

But  to-night  a  wild  desire  consumed  all 
other  thought,  leaving  a  single  avenue  his 
mind  could  take,  and  his  whole  body  ached 
in  contemplation,  for  it  seemed  to  reach  so 
many,  many  miles  ahead  and  had  no  turning- 
point  or  end. 

Suddenly  the  chimes  of  a  neighboring 
church  burst  forth  clear  and  vibrating  on 
the  winter  air — "  Joy  to  the  World  "  they 

sang. 

29 


. 


9  /*y\*  o  « 


Their   Hearts'  Desire 

John  took  a  long,  deep  breath.  Some 
thing  gave  way  and  made  it  possible.  He 
looked  up,  his  heart  responding  instantly  to 
the  song  of  cheer.  To  the  belfry  from 
which  the  song  of  glory  came,  on  up  to 
the  stars  above,  he  raised  his  eyes,  and  he 
saw  things  that  grown  folks  do  not  see,  and 
heard  melodies  too  remote  for  them  to  hear, 
because  of  the  manifold  things  of  earth  that 
lie  between. 

An  interval  of  silence  while  a  closing  note 
diffused  itself. 

Again  "  Joy  to  the  World  "  the  chimes 
began,  and  then,  across  the  soft  white  still 
ness  of  the  night,  nearer  and  nearer,  came 
the  sound  of  other  bells.  They,  too,  sang  of 
joy,  but  in  gayer,  faster  measure,  a  riotous 
song,  that  finding  echo  in  his  childish  heart, 
warmed  and  thrilled  him. 

He  had  forgotten,  but  now — through  the 
darkness  of  night  and  the  gloom  of  his  own 
forebodings  he  looked  straight  into  the 
merry,  reassuring  face  of  Santa  Claus. 

30 


V 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

A  little  excited  laugh  escaped  his  parted  \ 
lips.  His  mind  fairly  galloped  to  happy 
conclusions  without  reason  or  guidance, 
only — since  he  could  remember,  Santa  Claus 
had  never  failed  him  or  any  other  boy  he 
knew. 

He  broke  from  Jane's  restraining  hand. 
Hopping,  skipping,  jumping,  he  circled 
around  her;  till  finally,  running  on  ahead, 
he  waited  under  the  flickering  light  of  a 
street  lamp,  exclaiming  with  enthusiasm  as 
she  joined  him:  "  Jane,  tell  me,  does  Santa 
Claus  make  live  things?  I  mean  ponies, 
and  dogs  and — things  that  walk  and  talk, 
like  he  brings  boys  sometimes?  " 

"  No,  John,  only  God  can  do  that,"  Jane 
answered  in  a  mildly  reproachful  tone. 
(She  must  review  his  catechism  on  Sun 
day!) 

"  Well,  where  does  he  get  them,  then?  "    ^ 
John  urged,  unconscious  of  his  fall  from 
grace.     "  He  brought  Cousin  Dick  a  dandy 

goat  last  year,  and  Aunt  Sue  a  baby!  " 
3i 


M  J 


\N 


Their   Hearts'  Desire 

11  Perhaps  he  bought  the  goat." 

"  Perhaps,"  dubiously,  "  but  the  baby — 
where  did  he  get  the  baby?  " 

"  I  can't  say — exactly.  I  don't  know 
much  about  Santa  Claus,  John."  Truthful 
Jane!  She  never  cultivated,  never  ap 
proved  of  fictitious  characters. 

They  walked  in  silence  a  little  way,  and 
then  John  announced  with  conviction,  "  I'll 
bet  God  helps  him.  He's  a  regular  *  corker,' 
God  is." 

"John  Belden!  "  Jane  gasped  in  horror, 
for  she  did  not  catch  the  note  of  praise  in 
the  boyish  vernacular. 

"  Well,  He  is,  Jane.  He  can  just  do  any 
thing  He  wants.  S'pose  you  think  babies 
is  all  He  can  make.  Humph!  "  in  a  scorn 
ful  voice.  "  He  makes  men  and — ladies 
and — and  giants,  too,  sometimes."  The  last 
triumphantly. 

Jane  said  nothing.  She  was  occupied 
trying  to  account  for  the  remarkable  change 
in  the  deportment  of  her  small  charge. 


JANE,      TELL      ME,      DOES      SANTA      CLAUS      MAKE       LIVE 
THINGS?  '  " 


(C 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

Could  this  sudden  animation  betoken  deli 
rium? 

She  looked  at  him  solicitously.  He  was 
gazing  meditatively  up  at  the  sky. 

"  I  know  now,  Jane.  Santa  Claus  gets 
them  in  another  world,"  he  said  at  length, 
with  a  shade  of  awe  and  wonder  in  his  voice. 

"  Where  did  you  learn  that  nonsense?  " 

"  Daddy  said  so,  he  told  me.     It's  Mars- 
one  star.     It's  a  world — away  off,  a  hundred 
and  a  thousand  miles — farther  than  from  •? 
here  to  Aunt  Sue's.     Anyway,  they  think  fj 
it's  a  world,  Jane,"  reluctantly  admitting  ;\£ 
the  possibility  of  a  doubt,  "  and  I  just  know  ^ 
that's  where  he  gets  things.     I'll  bet  you  :J 
anything,"  kicking  viciously  at  a  pile  of 
snow.      "Gee!      I   wonder    how    he    gets 
there!"  he  added,  again  thoughtful. 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know,"  she  answered 
abstractedly,  while  she  studied  him. 

Jane  did  not  easily  give  up  her  opinions, 
but  John's  step  once  more  buoyant,  his  voice 
animated,  normal  conditions  existing,  it  cer- 


^7  ^'* 


«        t,  o  • 


*tt*?*&**0 

Their  Hearts'  Desire 

tainly  looked  as  though  at  least  a  part  of 
the  ice  cream  Santa  Claus  had  digested. 
But  all  danger  was  not  yet  passed,  and  so 
when  he  begged  to  stay  up  late  and  wait 
for  his  "  Dad,"  a  daring  request,  she  chose 
what  seemed  the  lesser  of  two  evils,  and 
said  "  Yes." 


£>       $ 


^     f; 


WO 


O  O 


o  «       O        O  ft 


Chapter 
Two 


o    o  o    o 

ENTERING  the  house,  they  had  hardly 
closed  the  door  till  Adam  was  in  the  hall, 
careering  around  with  the  grace  of  a  small 
elephant,  his  antics  seriously  interfering 
with  John's  efforts  to  remove  his  wraps. 
But  this  accomplished,  the  boy  ran  down 
the  hall,  closely  pursued  by  the  Great  Dane 
into  the  library,  where  they  settled  them 
selves  on  the  rug  in  front  of  the  fire,  and 
Adam  ate  the  chocolates  concealed  for  him 
in  the  fullness  of  his  young  master's  blouse. 
The  fact  that  candy  was  not  considered  good 
for  Adam  either,  had  always  been  a  close 
tie  between  them! 

The  chocolates  disposed  of,  Adam  opened 
the  conversation,  pounding  his  tail  vigor 
ously  upon  the  floor,  but  John  did  not  re 
spond.  He  lay  with  his  head  propped  on 
his  hands,  looking  dreamily  at  the  blazing 


00* 


f 


/ '     ^ 

^v/y        Vx 

•  *W"% —      •»•*. ^V^.         —•  * 

S5p^  £*^jfc  ~-  <*** 
^^^^=.^-^^^^0^^=^= 

Their   Hearts'  Desire 

logs.  Once  more  Adam  expressed  himself 
with  added  vehemence,  but  still  his  presence 
was  ignored. 

This  was  too  much — something  must  be 
wrong. 

Adam  blinked  thoughtfully,  then  slowly 
rising  to  his  feet,  walked  around  between 
John  and  the  fire,  and  poked  his  cold,  wet 
nose  into  John's  warm  neck.  That  was 
Adam's  favorite  spot! 

John  squirmed  and  giggled  as  he  pulled 
the  big  dog  down  close  beside  him,  and 
whispering,  told  him  all  about  it.  And 
that  was  what  Adam  wanted.  He  was  a 
fine  listener,  offering  not  a  single  suggestion, 
only  expressing  his  interest  and  appreciation 
by  a  hearty  dab  of  his  large  red  tongue  on 
John's  small  nose. 

Then  they  both  lay  in  silence  gazing  at 
the  fire.  The  boy,  with  wide-open,  soulful 
eyes,  transported  by  his  fancies  to  a  state  of 
perfect  bliss,  while  the  dog,  soon  dozing 

off,  found  himself  confronted  by  a  host  of 
38 


o      o  00 


Their   Hearts'  Desire 

cats — awful,  diabolical  looking  cats,  with 
shiny,  smooth  chocolate  bodies  and  extrava 
gantly  large  and  bristling  white  tails  held 
uniformly  aloft,  each  separate  hair  mani 
festing  individual  hostility.  The  hair  on 
the  scruff  of  Adam's  neck  rose  bravely.  He 
uttered  a  sharp  bark  of  warning,  but  it 
ended  in  a  tremulous  whine  of  despair,  as 
he  observed  the  rapid  advance  of  the  un 
daunted  foe.  On  the  eve  of  ignominious 
flight,  he  heaved  a  prodigious  sigh  of  relief 
and  satisfaction  when  suddenly  aroused  to 
a  consciousness  of  peace  and  safety.  To 
think  he  had  escaped,  and  with  his  honor 
unimpaired! 

He  raised  himself  to  his  haunches,  med 
itating.  He  wondered  where  that  particu 
lar  breed  of  felines  came  from  and  what  his 
chances  were  for  meeting  them  again,  when 
in  the  midst  of  his  speculations,  some  one 
suddenly  grabbed  John  by  the  feet,  exclaim 
ing  in  a  big  voice:  "  Well,  Buster,  what  are 
you  doing  here  at  this  hour?  Is  Nurse  sick 


H~~ ^h  ^' 


O   o  o  «  o  o  o      o       O  O 


V\ 


o         o  o  « 


Their   Hearts'  Desire 

that  you  arc  allowed  to  sit  up?  "  And  then 
began  the  romp  that  usually  followed  a 
meeting  of  father  and  son. 

But  to-night,  no  romping  for  John.  He 
wriggled  and  writhed,  calling  out,  "  Wait, 
Daddy — don't.  I  want  to  tell  you — please," 
as  he  made  repeated  efforts  to  get  upon  his 
feet. 

At  last  the  timely  entrance  of  Adam  into 
the  fray  diverted  his  tormentor's  attention 
long  enough  for  John  to  announce  with  en 
thusiasm,  "  Daddy, — please,  I  want  to  write 
a  letter  now,  so  it  will  be  in  time — to  Santa 
Claus — that's  why  I  stayed  up — and  I  want 
you  to  help  me  to  spell  it  quick — for  I'll 
have  to  go  to  bed  in  just  a  minute." 

The  tone  of  anxiety  and  excitement 
plainly  showed  that  the  business  was  im 
portant,  so  pencil  and  paper  were  promptly 
supplied,  and  John  went  to  work. 

His  father  stood  by,  watching  with  in 
terest  the  flushed  face  and  rigid  little  fist 

wielding  the  pencil.     He  was  curious,  too, 
40 


v   i 


li 


0    O    <3  9 


o  o  * 


Their   Hearts'  Desire 

but  he  did  not  question — did  not  even  speak, 
except  in  response  to  a  plea  for  help,  though 
the  words  he  was  asked  to  spell  were  of  so 
varied  a  nature  as  to  give  no  clue  to  the 
particular  contents  of  the  letter. 

Not  until  it  was  sealed,  addressed,  and 
stamped  did  John  relax  his  efforts,  for  he 
was  momentarily  expecting  Jane's  call  to 
bed,  and  had  only  just  put  the  letter  in  his 
father's  hand,  when  she  summoned  him. 

"  Don't  forget  to  send  it  to-night,  will 
you,  Daddy?  "  he  cautioned  brightly,  rais 
ing  his  face  to  be  kissed,  and  then  he  scamp 
ered  off,  Adam  following  him  to  the  door. 

Robert  Belden  sat  down  and  stretched 
his  limbs  to  the  warmth  of  the  crackling  fire. 
It  felt  good.  The  night  was  cold  and  he 
had  had  a  long  drive.  The  fire  was  a  real 
comfort.  He  leaned  his  head  against  the 
back  of  his  easy  chair,  and  smilingly  con 
templated  the  envelope  in  his  hand.  Adam 
came  and  stood  sedately  beside  him. 

"  Adam,"  in  a  puzzled  tone,  "  what  do 
41 


-r-r. 


O     0  ^        ^ 


$, 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

you  suppose  is  in  this  epistle,  anyway?  " 
Adam  did  not  commit  himself,  but  to  show 
his  interest  laid  one  paw  upon  his  master's 
knee.  "  Let  me  see,"  Dr.  Belden  continued, 
"  I  spelled  things — live — lady — climb — 
chin  and  Mars.  Well,  if  that  isn't  a  mix- 
up,"  with  an  amused  chuckle.  "  Sort  of 
a  Chinese  puzzle,  and  I  hate  to  give  up 
and  look  at  the  answer." 

He  delayed  a  moment  longer,  and  then 
raising  himself  to  a  more  erect  position, 
took  a  paper  knife  from  the  table  close  at 
hand  and  cut  the  envelope  open.  "  It  is 
very  mysterious,  and  very  important,"  he 
said,  with  playful  solemnity,  opening  out 
the  sheet. 

"  Dear  Santa,"  it  began — 

"  I  do  not  want  the  things  I  said.  I  only 
want  a  mother — a  live  one  that  can  do 
things,  like  the  lady  at  Jo's  that  can  climb 
with  a  hole  in  her  chin.  Maybe  you  can 
get  one  in  Mars. 

"JOHN  BELDEN." 

42 


/ 


K 

vu£\k.F$T 


0>^  nfeai 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

The  father  sank  slowly  back  in  his  chair. 
The  hand  holding  the  letter  dropped  to  his 
knee.  He  was  dazed,  stupefied  by  this  un 
heard  of  request;  what  he  felt  to  be  a  crying 
need  in  the  life  of  his  boy. 

He  had  expected  the  natural  demands  of 
childhood;  extravagant,  perhaps,  but  de 
mands  that  with  money  he  could  meet,  or 
with  tact  modify,  but  what  in  all  the  world 
could  satisfy  this  heart  hunger — the  God- 
given  instinct  of  a  child  for  mother-love! 

An  awful  sense  of  futility  and  incompe- 
tency  to  comprehend  the  situation  oppressed 
him,  since  he  had  failed  all  these  years  in 
the  very  thing  he  cared  most  about — John's 
happiness  and  welfare.  And  Jane  Austin, 
the  Infallible,  with  all  her  years  of  experi 
ence  and  singleness  of  purpose  and  love  for 
John,  she  must  have  failed  too. 

This  added  to  his  distress,  for  from  the 
first,  recognizing  a  man's  limitations,  he  had 
relied  on  her  care  and  companionship  to 
supplement  his  own. 
43 


$ 


y*w 


o  o       o        99 


O  O  O  « 


I// 


\\ 


Their   Hearts9  Desire 

And  now  the  letter  was  all  he  had  to 
enlighten  him.  Recalling  but  vaguely  its 
contents,  except  the  one  paramount  fact,  he 
turned  to  it  again. 

"  I  do  not  want  the  things  I  said,"  he  read, 
and  stopped.  This  complete  giving  up  of 
all  coveted  treasures  showed  how  much  in 
earnest  the  boy  was.  "  I  only  want  a 
mother,"  he  continued,  "  a  live  one — like 
the  lady  at  Jo's — that  can  climb — with  a 
hole  in  her  chin."  He  paused,  smiling  ten 
derly  at  the  ambiguity.  And  then  Robert 
Belden  caught  his  breath.  Suddenly  some 
thing  dawned  upon  him  that  almost  stopped 
the  beating  of  his  heart,  and  enveloped  his 
mental  faculties  in  a  sort  of  haze. 

"  The  lady  at  Jo's,"  he  remarked  slowly, 
shifting  his  position.  Was  he  dreaming,  or 
deluded?  He  must  think — but  his  whole 
consciousness  became  suddenly  dominated 
by  an  inspired  conviction  not  to  be  reasoned 
with  or  questioned.  It  seemed  the  very  im 
pulse  of  his  being. 

44 


••I 


. 


V\ 


O  CO* 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

He  sprang  from  his  chair,  and  began  pac 
ing  the  floor,  head  up,  eyes  glowing  with 
exaltation.  Dreaming,  or  deluded?  No- 
no — it  was  Fate  and  Barbara.  A  half  hys 
terical  laugh  escaped  him.  It  was  meant  to 
be,  he  knew  it!  John  wanted  her,  or  one 
like  her,  and  there  was  only  one  Barbara 
McClellan  in  all  the  world.  And  he?  O 
God!  how  he  wanted  her!  A  thousand 
times  more  beautiful  she  seemed,  and  holy, 
a  blessing  set  apart  for  him  and  John. 

He  had  thought  to  make  her  love  him, 
but  somehow  now  he  knew  the  miracle  was 
wrought,  for  his  spirit  drew  hers  gently  to 
him,  not  a  shadow  intervened,  and  he  softly 
folded  his  love  about  her,  while  she  smiled 
a  beautiful  radiance  into  the  room.  He 
heard  the  echo  of  his  love  within  her  heart, 
and  felt  the  beauty  of  her  soul  within  his 
own. 

Softly  the  voice  of  his  dear  old  mother 
came  to  him,  singing  in  quavering  tones  as 
she  used  to  sing  so  long  ago,  "  God  moves 

45 


I 


• 


a  o       O        o  O 


MW 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

in  a  mysterious  way,  His  wonders  to  per 
form."  She  had  believed  it — bless  her, 
through  joy  and  pain — to  the  very  end. 
And  he  believed  it  now — and  Barbara? 
Yes,  Barbara,  too.  He  smiled  in  happy 
confidence.  He  did  not  really  need  to  ask 
her,  for  he  knew. 

Resuming  his  chair  before  the  fire,  he 
gave  himself  up  to  the  joys  of  retrospection. 

The  revelation  seemed  complete,  and  in 
its  light  all  his  relations  with  her  assumed 
a  new  significance,  beginning  with  the  day 
six  months  before  when  she  came  to  the 
home  of  his  friend,  Henry  Strong. 

Calling  professionally  a  few  hours  after 
her  arrival,  he  had  surprised  her  sitting  on 
the  nursery  floor,  absorbed  in  the  building 
of  a  stately  castle  for  his  convalescing  pa 
tient. 

There  had  been  no  one  to  introduce  them, 
but  he  quickly  identified  her  in  his  mind 
with  the  expected  guest,  and  young  Eliza 
beth  Strong,  radiant  with  the  after-glow  of 

46 


31, 


**. 


.'" 


Their   Hearts'  Desire 

chicken  pox  and  the  assurance  of  a  four 
year  old,  recommended  them  to  each  other 

%  without  reserve.  And  the  acquaintance,  so 
auspiciously  begun,  flourished  like  a  green 
bay  tree,  its  spicy  fruit  a  source  of  joy  to 
him  at  least,  while  subtly  nourishing  a  senti 
ment  of  which  he  did  not  know  himself 
possessed. 

Barbara  McClellan  had  come  to  his 
friend's  immediately  after  the  death  of  her 
father,  sad  and  desperately  lonely,  for  she 
was  an  only  child  and  had  lost  her  mother 
years  before. 

Naturally,  in  the  newness  of  her  grief, 
she  shrank  from  contact  with  the  world  in 
general,  going  out  little,  except  for  walks 
and  drives,  and  meeting  few  people,  find 
ing  comfort  and  happiness  in  the  immediate 
interests  of  her  friends  and  their  children, 
in  whose  life  she  unreservedly  merged  her 
own. 

And  he,  exceptionally  privileged,  as  an 
old  friend  and  family  physician,  to  come 
47 


e   o  c  <•  e>  tt  « 


v\ 


. 


\ 


Their   Hearts'  Desire 

and  go  at  will,  morning,  noon  or  night,  had 
participated,  long  before  she  came,  in  the 
intimate  life  of  the  household;  a  circum 
stance  affording  him  from  the  first  her 
almost  daily  consideration,  and  occasioning 
attentions  on  his  part  sincere  but  not  in  the 
least  considered.  Even  the  habit  of  sending 
her  violets,  inaugurated  by  the  observance 
of  her  birthday  in  the  early  fall,  had  seemed 
only  a  concurrence  in  the  increased  require 
ments  of  an  enlarged  family. 

He  smiled  blandly  at  the  thought,  but 
he  knew  that  had  he  been  questioned,  even 
a  month  ago,  as  to  the  frequency  of  his  visits 
he  would  have  answered  in  all  honesty  that 
the  Strongs  were  his  dearest  friends,  that 
he  had  always  gone  there  informally  and 
often,  and  that  there  was  nothing  he  enjoyed 
more  than  an  evening  in  the  rectory.  She 
would  have  been  included  in  the  evening, 
of  course,  but  not  as  a  distinct  factor.  And 
how  confounded  he  had  been  to  discover 

the  real  state  of  affairs! 
48 


• 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

Then  he  recalled  the  evening  of  his  first 
enlightenment. 

He  had  dropped  in  on  his  way  home  from 
the  hospital  and  found  her  alone,  engaged 
in  the  dressing  of  a  large,  blond  doll.  Un 
announced,  as  usual,  he  enjoyed  a  moment's 
contemplation  of  her  from  the  sitting-room 
door  before  she  knew  that  he  was  there. 

He  could  close  his  eyes  and  see  her  now 
as  she  sat  in  the  warm  glow  of  the  lamp,  her 
black  gown  relieved  by  a  tiny  line  of  white 
about  the  throat  and  wrists,  her  lap  strewn 
with  bright-colored  pieces;  a  sewing-basket 
was  on  the  table  close  at  hand,  but  closer 
still,  he  remembered  with  a  thrill  of  satis 
faction,  the  violets  he  had  sent  that  day. 
The  doll  she  held  aloft  before  her,  bending 
its  extremities  into  conventional  lines  of  ease 
and  grace,  while  she  viewed  its  embryo  mag 
nificence  with  a  satisfied  smile. 

The  sound  of  his  voice  had  startled  her. 
He  recalled  with  some  contrition  the  little 

gasping  cry  she  gave,  and  the  look  of  alarm 

49 


IN 


\' 

\    Lt 


•    ' 


o  0  o    o 


Their   Hearts'  Desire 

in  the  eyes  that  questioningly  sought  the 
door — a  look  which  speedily  gave  place  to 
one  of  relief  and  evident  pleasure. 

But  she  was  very  sorry  to  tell  him — which 
she  did  immediately — that  both  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Strong  were  out,  seeming  to  feel  he 
might  not  care  to  stay. 

He  had  been  quick  to  reassure  her;  he 
remembered  exactly  the  very  words  he  used : 
"  I  am  glad.  I  would  rather  have  you  all 
to  myself  for  a  whole  evening  than  anything 
I  know." 

He  laughed  now  at  the  frank  committal. 
It  was  true!  He  made  the  statement  nat 
urally,  without  a  thought  beyond,  and 
but  for  her  momentary  self-consciousness, 
evinced  by  the  delicate  pink  that  stole  into 
her  cheeks  and  the  sudden  half  veiling  of 
her  eyes,  he  might  not  have  realized  the 
significance  of  his  own  words. 

As  it  was,  the  knowledge  surprised  and 
disconcerted  him,  a  circumstance  that  now 

afforded  him  intense  amusement.     He  felt 

50 


I 


.-, 


o  o  o    o 


o 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

as  though  he  had  played  a  joke  upon  another 
man,  a  poor,  unsophisticated  country  bump 
kin! 

How  admirably  she  had  regained  her 
self-possession,  he  reflected,  and  assisted  him 
to  his,  and  her  blush — he  recalled  it  now 
with  a  delicious  sense  of  possible  power, 
while  he  wondered  just  how  much  it  meant 
and  what  the  drooping  eyelids  hid. 

Most  of  the  evening  she  sewed  diligently, 
while  they  talked  and  he  smoked,  with  her 
kind  permission,  and  played  his  very  lim 
ited  repertoire  on  the  piano.  Then  she 
suggested  a  short  story  in  a  magazine,  which 
he  read  aloud.  Afterwards,  while  he  en 
joyed  his  pipe  once  more,  they  talked  of 
many  things,  frequently  lapsing,  however, 
into  long  silences,  during  which  he  envel 
oped  himself  in  a  cloud  of  smoke  and  an 
air  of  preoccupation,  while  covertly  watch 
ing  her  from  the  corner  of  his  eye  and 
striving  to  diagnose  his  case. 

She  had  seemed  doubly  industrious  at 


o       O        O  « 


O  O  0  « 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

these  times,  he  remembered.  He  also  re 
membered,  with  an  indulgent  smile,  that  he 
was  invariably  requested  to  find  her  mis 
laid  scissors,  or  to  pursue  an  errant  spool 
which  persisted  in  dropping  from  her  lap 
and  rolling  away  to  some  remote  corner  of 
the  room. 

This  had  finally  ended  in  his  offering 
to  hold  in  his  own  hand  both  scissors  and 
spool  when  not  in  use.  She  demurred  a 
little,  it  was  "  such  a  foolish  occupation  for 
a  man,"  but  his  argument  that  it  was  an 
improvement  on  scrambling  around  on  all 
fours  over-ruled. 

Once,  near  the  close  of  the  evening,  she 
had  come  to  momentary  grief,  and  he  val 
iantly  to  the  rescue.  Her  needle  slipped 
down  deep  beneath  the  nail  of  one  deft 
finger.  She  exclaimed  a  little,  and  so,  with 
out  being  formally  called,  he  took  the  case, 
and  the  injured  hand,  in  his. 

The  needle  intact  had  been  readily  re 
moved,  but  to  thoroughly  satisfy  himself — 

52 


Y 


«     «      «o 


\\ 


\ 


// 


Their   Hearts'  Desire 

he  failed  to  state  in  what  way — it  had  been 
necessary  to  make  a  prolonged  and  exhaus 
tive  search  for  the  point. 

During  the  examination  of  the  finger, 
and — himself,  she  had  watched  him  with  a 
serious,  trustful  look  that  aggravated  to  an 
alarming  degree  all  his  symptoms  and  con 
vinced  him  that  his  case  was  hopeless. 

During  the  fortnight  since  that  memor 
able  evening  they  had  been  often  together, 
each  time  serving  to  strengthen  his  resolve 
to  win  her,  and  his  uncertainty  as  to  whether 
it  were  possible,  and  if  so,  how  and  when. 

There  being  no  question  as  to  his  own 
state  of  mind  and  heart,  he  spent  his  time 
speculating  as  to  hers  and  debating  the  wis 
dom  of  a  final  move. 

But  he  did  not  find  it  easy  to  get  his  bear 
ings  with  Barbara  McClellan.  Her  nature 
was  a  rare  combination  of  reserve  and  amaz 
ing  simplicity.  And  while  oftentimes  in 
genuousness  opened  up  entrancing  vistas 
that  transported  him  to  the  very  seventh 


9  9  W  Q     O 


X&'^T:®^ 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

heaven  of  bliss,  they  were  quickly  and  quite 
breathlessly  obscured  by  an  instant  reserve, 
much  as  a  mother  hastens  to  cover  the  rev 
elations  of  a  too  precocious  child.  So  these 
charming  glimpses  only  served  to  keep  him 
ever  traversing  the  hillsides  of  doubt. 

Now  from  his  newly  'established  emi 
nence,  he  viewed  as  of  another  being  the 
footsteps  of  his  vacillating  feet;  steps  that 
crossed  and  re-crossed,  discerning  where  he 
might  have  advanced  with  safety  many 
times.  But,  strange  to  say,  the  path  by 
which  he  attained  his  present  dizzy  height 
he  could  not  see. 

He  was  there,  that  was  enough,  and  be 
fore  him  lay  the  country  of  his  heart's  de 
sire,  waiting,  ready  for  immediate  posses 
sion,  if  only  Barbara  were  ready  too. 

He  must  know.  He  would  go  to  her  at 
once — and  he  started  toward  the  door,  paus 
ing  midway  to  consult  his  watch  when  Jane 
entered  with  a  cup  of  tea. 

"  I  thought  perhaps  you  would  like  some- 


.*  (i 


m 


r^efs&f:1:*":^:::**?^  -~ 

Their  Hearts'  Desire 

'vv    •  •'..•' 
thing  hot  before  you  go  out  again,  sir,"  she 

said.  "  It  will  be  so  late  before  you  have 
dinner,  and  it's  cold." 

"  Thank  you,  Jane,  you  are  very  thought 
ful,"  he  said  perfunctorily. 

She  put  the  tray  on  the  table  and  left  the 
room;  whereupon  Dr.  Belden  eyed  it  with 
antagonism,  while  his  spirits  sank.  For 
Jane's  words  brought  to  mind  an  engage 
ment  to  dine  at  the  Club  with  sundry  others 
of  the  local  profession,  entertaining  an  emi 
nent  surgeon  from  abroad,  and  he  had  been 
delegated  to  make  the  address  of  welcome. 

"  Heavens!  A  fine  one  it  would  be,"  he 
reflected  sardonically.  He  hadn't  an  idea 
in  his  head,  but  Barbara,  and  "  God  moves 
in  a  mysterious  way." 

He  leaned  against  the  edge  of  the  table, 
his  hands  thrust  deep  in  his  pockets,  and 
scowled  as  he  faced  the  situation.  One 
thing  was  sure,  he  was  not  to  be  depended 
upon.  What  man  would  be!  And  looking 
down  at  the  hundred  and  eighty  pounds  of 


Dai 


UJ 


a  o       Q        o  4 


Their   Hearts'  Desire 

deferred  hope  in  English  tweeds,  of  which 
he  was  miserably  conscious,  he  indulged  in 
one  large,  audible  "  Damn!  "  and  inaudibly 
consigned  the  eminent  surgeon  to  the  bottom 
of  the  sea,  with  all  the  isolated  corporeal 
members  which  had  engaged  his  attention, 
and  of  which,  incidentally,  this  dinner  was 
a  consequence. 

Then  once  more  Robert  Belden  looked  at 
his  watch  and  debated.  He  must  do  some 
thing.  The  pressure  was  too  great.  It 
could  not  all  be  put  off.  He  closed  his 
watch  with  a  decisive  snap  and  went  to  the 
'phone. 

"  Seven  hundred,  please,"  he  requested, 
followed  by  the  customary  wait.  "  Hello, 
that  you,  Henry?  This  is  Belden  talking 
.  .  .  Yes  .  .  .  No,  not  to-night,  thanks. 
Am  due  at  the  Club  at  eight,  and  I  haven't 
any  time  to  waste  on  you,  old  man.  I  want 
to  talk  to  Miss  McClellan,  if  I  may.  .  .  . 
All  right,  I'll  wait."  Silence  for  a  time, 
and  then,  "  Good-evening,"  and  a  beaming 

56 


A  1 


\/ 
<\./y 


oo       O        O  9 


\\ 


«  O 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

&  smile.  "  How  are  you  all  after  the  party? 
.  .  .  Oh,  is  she?  I'm  sorry  to  hear 
that.  .  .  .  Yes,  I  want  to  know  if  I 
may  see  you  for  a  few  minutes  to-morrow 
morning,  as  early  as  nine-thirty.  .  .  . 
Not  early?  "  laughing.  "  Well,  I  can  make 
it  six-thirty,  or  seven,  only  I  don't  want  to 
get  mixed  up  with  Louise's  butcher  and 
baker.  ..  .  Beg  pardon?  .  .  .  Thanks, 
you  flatter  me.  Well,  we'll  make  it  nine- 
thirty,  then.  .  .  .  Very  well.  Good 
night." 

The  'phone  was  abandoned  with  the  air 
of  having  accomplished  all  manner  of 
things.  At  least,  she  knew  that  he  was  com 
ing. 

Stopping  to  take  John's  letter  from  the 
table,  his  glance  fell  again  upon  the  offend 
ing  cup  of  tea,  Jane's  contribution  to  his 
comfort.  Good,  pious,  temperate  Jane! 
Somehow  he  felt  sorry  for  Jane  to-night, 

&     and  it  was  a  very  little  thing  to  drink  a  cup 

v\  i    (f  -  , 

of  tea! 


c  «y   * 


oN 


\N 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

He  raised  it  to  his  lips.  It  was  cold. 
He  made  a  wry  face  and  shrugged  his  shoul 
ders,  then  looked  benignly,  in  glad  relief, 
upon  the  palm  in  the  bay  window,  and 
crossing  over,  poured  the  liquid  Oolong  and 
Gunpowder  about  its  roots.  It  was  a  sturdy 
plant  and  likely  to  survive  the  dissipation, 
he  decided.  Besides,  according  to  Jane,  tea 
was  good  for  anything. 

"  You  make  excellent  tea,  Jane,"  he  com 
mented,  replacing  the  cup  upon  the  table 
as  she  re-entered  the  room.  "  And  it  is  a 
cold  night.  Be  careful  about  the  ventila 
tion  in  John's  room,  won't  you?  "  he  added. 

"  I  always  am.  You  know  he  hasn't  had 
a  cold  this  year,"  she  answered  with  pride. 

"  I  know,"  nodding  approval.  Then, 
"  How  are  you  two  getting  on  these  days?  " 

"  Very  well,  sir,  but  of  course  John 
doesn't  think  of  anything  but  Christmas 
now,  and  what  he  wants,  and  to-night  he  has 
some  queer  notion  about  Mars — says  you 

told  him.     When  he  was  getting  ready  for 

;8 


»  o   « 


o   o 


_ 


?* 


Their   Hearts'  Desire 

bed  he  talked  of  nothing  else.  Have  you 
gotten  his  Christmas  things  yet,  sir?  " 

"  No,  not  yet, — not — all  of  them.  But — 
well,  I've  picked  them  out,"  he  added 
brightly.  "  By  the  way,  Jane,"  in  a  differ 
ent  tone,  "  What  is  the  condition  of  the  guest 
room  next  to  John's?  You  needn't  speak 
of  it  at  present,"  he  went  on,  not  waiting  for 
her  to  answer,  "  but  we  may  have  a  guest  for 
Christmas,  and  I  would  like  to  have  the 
room  cleaned  and  made  as  attractive  as  pos 
sible,  fresh  curtains  and  so  on.  Perhaps,  on 
second  thought,  I  had  better  look  it  over 
with  you  in  the  morning." 

"  Very  well,  sir.  Will  the  gentleman  be 
here  long?  "  she  asked,  taking  the  tray  from 
the  table. 

"The  gentleman?"  in  a  puzzled  voice. 
And  then  recovering  himself,  "  Ah — yes — 
yes.  I — didn't  understand.  Yes,  indefi 
nitely,  if  he  comes." 

Jane  wondered  as  she  left  the  room  why 
he  flushed  and  smiled  so  entirely.  She 

ft 


if 


o  o  • 


• 


\\ 


v\ 


?**?^*^^ 

Their  Hearts'  Desire 

couldn't  see  the  slightest  cause  for  either. 
Then  she  wondered  what  the  gentleman  was 
like. 

As  for  Robert  Belden,  he  stood  spell 
bound  by  his  own  audacity.  "Curtains — • 
not  only  curtains,  but  fresh  curtains!"  And 
he  had  not  even  told  her  that  he  loved  her. 

A  tender  humorousness  crept  into  his  face, 
as  he  ran  the  fingers  of  one  hand  through 
his  hair.  Was  he  more  thirty-eight  or 
eighteen,  he  wondered.  Truly,  the  latter, 
since  his  maturer  senses,  treed  for  the  time 
by  the  reckless  maneuvers  of  his  boy  soul, 
sat  complacently  idle,  smiling  down  into 
the  recognized  face  of  Destiny  standing 
guard  beneath. 

Adam  came  up  and  licked  his  master's 
hand.  Fortunately  he  did  not  know  how 
much  of  him  was  up  a  tree,  or  he  would 
more  than  likely  have  barked,  for  Adam 
almost  always  barked  at  things  in  trees. 

Dr.  Belden  rested  his  hand  on  the  dog's 
head.  "Adam,  it's  too  bad  you're  just  a 

60 


V 


Hearts   Desire 

dog,"  he  said.  :<  You've  got  a  soul.  Yes, 
I  understand,  you  needn't  wag  your  tail  so. 
There,  old  dog,"  leaning  over  to  pat  him 
affectionately,  "you  go  lie  down  in  front  of 
the  fire  and  make  up  your  mind  what  you 
want  for  Christmas  dinner,  and  by  Jove,  I'll 
get  it,  Adam,  even  if  it's  squabs  at  a  dollar 
per." 

And  then  Adam's  master  went  upstairs, 
took  a  cold  tub,  something  besides  cold  tea, 
and  dressed,  all  to  the  tune  of  "God  moves 
in  a  mysterious  way,"  in  measures  ranging 
from  soulful  long  meter  to  the  most  frenzied 
rag-time,  after  which  he  went  to  the  Club 
and  tried  to  behave  like  other  men. 


>    o 


o     o 


i- 


Chapter 
%ree 


IN  his  perusal  of  the  Journal  at  the  break 
fast  table  the  next  morning,  Robert  Belden 
was  relieved  to  find  there  had  been  no  lapse 
on  his  part  the  evening  before  sufficiently 
marked  as  to  supply  material  for  the  re 
porter.  In  fact,  his  brief  address  received 
flattering  comment. 

"  It's  wonderful  what  a  man  can  do,  when 
he's  pushed  to  it,"  he  remarked,  dropping 
two  lumps  instead  of  one  into  his  coffee. 
And  John  said,  "  Pushed  to  what,  Daddy?  " 
His  father  said,  "  Have  another  egg,  son. 
And,  by  the  way,  I  got  your  letter  off  last 
night,  and  it  ought  to  reach  headquarters 
about  half-past  nine  this  morning." 

"Headquarters?"  said  John.  "Is  that 
where  Santa  Claus  lives?  " 

"  Not  exactly,  but — it's  where — the  late, 
special  orders  like  yours  are  filled." 


J>   « 


0OOO 


00 




ff\ 


V\ 


O  O   * 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

11  Oh !  "  John  exclaimed,  his  mouth  full  of 
toast  and  his  eyes  big  with  interest. 

He  ate  his  second  egg  in  silence.  Then 
resting  his  elbow  on  the  table  and  his 
chin  in  his  hand,  "  Daddy,"  he  began, 
"  do  you  know  anybody  that  came  from 
Mars?" 

"From  Mars?  H'm'm.  No,  I  don't  be 
lieve  I  do,  John." 

"  Well,  do  you  know  any  one  who  ever 
went  to  Mars,  Daddy?  "  with  a  suggestion 
of  anxiety. 

"  No.  You  see,  the  trains  don't  run,  and 
air-ships  aren't  much  good  yet.  Guess  we'll 
have  to  wait  awhile  for  a  trip  of  that  kind, 
son.  Why,  do  you  want  to  go?  " 

The  man  smiled,  but  the  boy  didn't.  The 
corners  of  his  mouth  drooped  a  little. 

"  No,"  he  said  in  a  wistful  tone.  "  But 
Jane  said  that  it  wasn't  true,  that  it  was  all  a 
joke  about  Mars  being  a  world,  that  it  is 
just  a  star  and  that  you  were  fooling  me. 
And  I  said  I  believed  you.  You  weren't 

66 


v>         v 

m 


\\ 


\v/' : 


1 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

fooling  me,  were  you,  Daddy?  "  he  went  on 
breathlessly,  as  though  fearing  the  answer. 
"  You  know  lots  more  than  Jane,  of  course, 
'bout  such  things,  and  I  told  her  I  bet  Santa 
Claus  and  God  can  go  there,  anyway,  if 
other  folks  can't." 

"  Of  course.  There's  not  a  doubt  of  it," 
his  father  agreed. 

"  That's  what  I  say,"  resumed  John,  his 
voice  ascending  a  scale  of  cheerfulness.  "  If 
Santa  Claus  can  drive  right  through  the  air, 
and  if  God  can  jump  around  the  way  He 
does,  hearing  kids  say  their  prayers,  I'll  bet 
they  can  go  to  Mars  just  as  easy — as 
easy," — casting  his  eyes  about  for  an  object 
for  comparison — "  as  I  can  shake  a  salt  cel 
lar,"  he  finished  convincingly. 

By  this  time  John's  countenance  was  ra 
diant.  He  leaned  over  and  whispered, 
though  they  were  quite  alone,  "  Daddy,  will 
you  do  something  for  me?  " 

"  I    most    certainly   will.    What   is    it, 

Buster?" 

67 


- 


o    o 


«  «       O         O  O 


c  o  « 


Their   Hearts'  Desire 

John  slid  from  his  chair,  napkin  in  hand, 
and  came  near  to  explain. 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,  of  course,  Daddy 
— nobody  ever  really  knows  about  Santa 
Claus — but  I  think  maybe — maybe — he'll 
bring  me  something — oh, — something  he 
can't  bring  down  a  chimney." 

"What!"  with  astonishment.  "Can't 
bring  down  a  chimney?  " 

John  nodded,  his  eyes  full  of  mystery. 

"  What  on  earth  do  you  think  it's  going 
to  be?  " 

"  I  don't  know  '  ezactly.'  Something  aw 
ful  big,  or  something  alive,  and  I  want  to 
leave  a  door  or  window  open  so  he  can  get 
in.  Please,  Daddy." 

His  father  pretended  to  consider  seri 
ously. 

"  I'm  afraid  Jane  will  never  allow  any 
more  animals  in  the  house,"  he  said  at  length 
in  a  dubious  tone.  "  But "  —with  sudden 
courage — "  we'll  just  not  tell  her,  and  I'll 

promise  to  fix  it  so  Santa  Claus  can  come 

68 


Y 


«  *  O   * 


•/ 


\ 


Their  Hearts9  Desire 

right  in  the  front  door.  There,  does  that 
satisfy  you,  young  man?"  giving  him  a 
squeeze. 

"Oh,  yes,"  came  from  John,  in  a  smoth 
ered  but  delighted  voice. 

"Well,  run  off,  then,  to  Jane.  Keep 
mum,  and  let  her  wipe  the  egg  off  your 
right  cheek.  I  must  be  off." 

Two  minutes  ahead  of  scheduled  time, 
John's  letter  reached  "headquarters."  The 
maid  admitted  the  bearer,  and  he  met  Mrs. 
Strong  in  the  hall  as  she  came  from  the 
rear  of  the  house,  enveloped  in  a  shining 
white  apron,  carpet  sweeper  and  dust  cloth 
in  hand. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  invading  a  house 
at  this  hour  of  the  day  ?"  she  demanded,  be 
stowing  a  beaming  smile  and  a  hand  in 
welcome.  "We  don't  any  of  us  need  pills 
or  poultices." 

;' You  must  know  about  the  ounce  of  pre 
vention  and  the  pound  of  cure,  don't  you  ? " 

reminded  Dr.   Belden.     "Well,   I  thought 

69 


t>  a       o        O  O 


O  O  • 


\ 


Their   Hearts'  Desire 

I'd  drop  in  as  the  ounce,  and  save  you  a  big 
doctor's  bill.  You  have  a  terribly  busy 
air,"  he  remarked,  taking  off  his  coat. 
"  Thought  you  were  a  sick  lady  yesterday." 

"  No,  that's  a  mistake.  I  wasn't.  Come 
into  the  library,"  she  commanded,  leading 
the  way,  "  and  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it." 

A  big  log  burned  briskly  in  the  fireplace. 
He  took  a  stand  before  it,  his  hands  behind 
him. 

"  I  was  not  sick,"  Mrs.  Strong  began, 
"  just  one  of  my  old  headaches,  and  Henry 
and  Barbara  got  their  heads  together  and 
decided  to  put  me  to  bed.  You  know  Jo 
had  a  party?  Well,  Barbara,  with  my  hus 
band's  consent,  ran  it  all.  At  noon  I  not 
only  had  a  headache  all  by  myself  upstairs, 
but  was  threatened  with  convulsions,  think 
ing  of  the  things  to  be  done  by  three  o'clock, 
when  lo!  the  usurper  appears  with  a  cup  of 
tea,  a  serene  smile,  and  the  information  that 
everything  is  in  readiness,  that  the  children 
have  been  scoured  and  in  due  season  will 


«•     9  0 


o         o  o  « 


\ 


Their   Hearts'  Desire 

don  their  festive  garb,  and  that  if  I  don't 
prove  more  docile  and  relax  I  shall  be  ban 
ished  to  a  cot  in  the  attic."  She  finished 
with  a  dramatic  swirl  of  the  dust  cloth. 

cK}         I  j*g  j  i  I 

"Quite  right.  Good  for  the  usurper!" 
and  he  laughed  at  the  victim's  indignation. 
"  But  really,  Louise,  they  have  not  been  as 
bad  of  late,  have  they? "  regarding  her 
solicitously.  "  I  hoped  those— 

"  You  mean  Henry  and  Barbara? 
Worse!" 

"  No.  The  headaches.  Be  serious  a  mo 
ment.  You  should  not  have  so  many." 

"  I  quite  agree  with  you,  Dr.  Belden.  But 
tell  me,"  with  a  change  of  tone,  "  how  is 
your  small  family?  " 

"  Well,  let  me  see.  Jane  is  well,  she  al 
ways  is;  and  likewise  James;  and  John  sur 
vived  the  party,  much  to  Jane's  surprise. 
Katy,  at  the  tender  age  of  fifty-two,  is  the 
victim  of  an  affaire  du  cceur,  which  makes 
her  nervous  and  the  coffee  very  bad. 

Adam,  you  know,  is  a  Scientist,  and  never 

Z1. 


v\ 


o  o  « 


\    ! 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

verbally  considers  a  material  condition. 
And  I,  as  you  may  surmise,  am  hardly  ex 
pected  to  live,"  and  he  drew  himself  up  to 
his  full  stature,  expanding  a  generous  chest 
and  a  generous  smile  at  the  same  time. 

But  his  glance  by  chance  falling  on 
Grandfather  Strong's  clock,  the  smile  grew 
less  expansive,  the  visible  march  of  time  ag 
gravating  his  impatience. 

In  blissful  ignorance  Mrs.  Strong  looked 
up  at  him. 

"  You  are  positively  insulting  with  your 
robustness,"  she  declared  with  a  frown.  "  I 
don't  understand,  any  way,  why  such  a  big 
share  of  the  ills  of  the  flesh  fall  to  women." 

"  Nor  I,  unless  Eve  was  made  out  of  the 
worst  rib  Adam  had." 

This  was  an  inspiration,  born  of  despair, 
and  Robert  Belden  hoped  it  would  preclude 
further  argument,  but  his  hopes  were  vain. 

"  That's  logical,"  he  heard  his  sociable 
companion  say;  then,  spying  some  shreds  of 

tobacco  on  the  floor  between  them,  she  be- 

72 


: 


I 


Their   Hearts'  Desire 

gan  to  sweep  in  a  dilatory  fashion  as  she 
talked. 

"  It  accounts,  too,  for  any  little  moral 
weakness  Eve  may— 

"  Louise,"  he  interrupted,  "  Louise, 
please  don't — don't  clean  in  here  just  now. 
Please  fix  some  other  room.  I  have  only 
a  little  time,  and — don't  you  know?  I  want 
to  see  Miss — I  want  to  see  Barbara  alone. 
Won't  you  go  and  send  her  to  me?  " 

She  looked  up  at  him  blankly.  The  dust 
cloth  fell  unheeded  to  the  floor,  and  the 
handle  of  the  noisy  sweeper  dropped  softly 
against  the  seat  of  a  cushioned  chair.  Then 
the  light  of  reason  slowly  dawned.  Her 
lips  framed  a  faint  but  compendious  "  Oh!  " 
and  she  fled  from  the  room. 

Just  a  moment,  and  he  heard  footsteps 
coming  down  the  stairs,  and  the  faintly  per 
ceptible  rustle  of  a  gown  nearing  the  door. 

Turning  from  the  window  through  which 
he  had  been  gazing  at  the  white  beauty  of 

the  world  outside,  Robert  Belden  waited, 

73 


'%  / 


f.y 


O    9  V  If* 


o         o  e  e> 


Their   Hearts'  Desire 

his  whole  being  keyed  up  to  the  highest 
pitch. 

Something  of  all  he  felt  and  hoped  must 
have  emanated  from  his  person,  for  Bar 
bara  McClellan  advanced  but  a  little  way 
into  the  room,  after  a  cordial  "  Good-morn 
ing,"  until,  held  by  the  brightness  in  his 
countenance,  she  stopped  and  faltered, 
"  Why,  what  is  it?  You " 

He  had  not  moved  since  she  entered  the 
door  till  now,  as  if  in  response  to  her  appeal, 
he  came  slowly  forward,  taking  the  hand 
she  offered,  and  the  other  one,  too. 

"  I  came  to  tell  you  that  I  love  you,  Bar 
bara." 

The  eyes  that  had  so  earnestly  questioned 
fell  before  his  ardent  gaze. 

He  bent  his  head  until  he  felt  the  softness 
of  her  hair  against  his  face. 

"  And  I  want  you  to  marry  me  to-morrow, 
will  you,  dear?  " 

She  looked  up  startled,  perplexity  and, 
he  thought,  a  shade  of  reproach  in  her  eyes. 


\ 


«t  0,  »      & 


Tif  V' 

M  I 


*%rr&ir:l&es*&:r&?^^ 

Their   Hearts9  Desire 

She  half  withdrew  her  hands,  but  they  lin 
gered,  trembling,  and  finally  lay  quite  pas 
sive  in  his  masterful,  tenacious  clasp. 

"  Marry  you  to-morrow?  Why,  I  can't 
understand,"  she  murmured  brokenly,  a 
wave  of  crimson  surging  over  face,  and  neck, 
and  ears. 

"  No — no — how  could  you?  "  he  said,  as 
one  might  speak  to  a  troubled  child.  "  But 
come  over  here  a  moment  in  the  sunshine, 
and  let  me  talk  to  you  a  little,  Barbara.  Let 
me  tell  you  all  about  it." 

He  led  her  to  the  couch  and,  placing  him 
self  beside  her,  began  to  speak  in  low,  con 
vincing  tones. 

"  First  of  all,  I  said  I  loved  you.  That's 
really  the  beginning  and  the  end.  You  may 
have  guessed  a  little,  but  you  cannot  know 
how  much.  Only  since  the  evening  we  spent 
together  alone  here  in  front  of  the  fire  have 
I  known  myself,  and  oh,  since  then,  the 
world  has  seemed  newly  made,  and  every 
thing  worth  while.  I  resolved  to  woo  you 


->*  £-.  °  *  * 


f 


^< 


\\ 


ft 


\\ 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

very  tenderly,  very  patiently,  for  weeks, 
months,  years  if  need  be;  only  I  hoped  and 
sometimes  almost  dared  believe  that  some 
day  soon  your  heart  would  respond  a  little 
to  the  love  in  mine." 

He  paused  a  moment  and  looked  away. 

"  Then  last  night  "  —softly,  half  rever 
ently  he  spoke,  "  a  letter  was  given  me  to 
mail  to  Santa  Claus.  I  read  it,  and  since — 
oh !  I  have  lived  in  the  joy  of  an  overwhelm 
ing  conviction,  and  I  know  I  am  right, 
sweetheart.  It  is  part  of  our  lives  for  me 
to  come  to  you  to-day,  and  for  you  to  say, 
*  I  love  you,  Robert.'  " 

She  stirred  uneasily,  and  a  tremulous  sigh 
escaped  her,  as  with  a  bewildered  air  she 
pushed  back  the  hair  from  her  face,  her 
hands  tarrying  a  moment  on  either  cheek, 
before  seeking  the  comfort  of  each  other  in 
her  lap. 

He  leaned  forward  and  slightly  towards 
her. 

"  Perhaps  you  have  not  known  it  before," 
76 


I 


./  \/  -;" 

O  -   •  oo 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

he  urged  persuasively,  "  but  it  is  true.  You 
cannot  say  you  do  not,  Barbara.  Oh,  look 
at  me  and  say  you  do." 

A  merciless  silence  reigned  while  he 
waited — waited  expectantly,  but  she  did  not 
look  up  at  him,  and  she  did  not  speak;  only 
the  shadow  of  a  smile  crossed  her  face,  as 
one  hand  crept,  like  a  little  hypnotized 
white  mouse,  into  his. 

"  You  blessed  girl,  you  darling,"  he  cried, 
rapturously,  raising  it  to  his  lips.  Then 
with  adoring  indulgence  he  smiled  upon 
her.  For  it  was  so  like  Barbara,  such  a 
characteristic  surrender;  sufficient,  though 
not  entire,  betokening  vaguely  unreckoned 
stores  of  precious  treasures,  still  to  be  de 
livered  in  her  own  good  time. 

She  stole  a  glance  at  him,  which  he  caught 
and  tried  to  hold. 

"  Can't  you  say  it,  dear?  "  he  questioned. 
"  I  am  waiting." 

"Say  what?"  The  words  were  barely 
audible. 

77 


. 


. 


o  o  * 


TTze/r   Hearts'  Desire 


"  You  know,  your  part,"  amused  at  the 
feigned  ignorance.  "No?  Well,  is  there 
any  really  good  reason  why  you  should  not 
look  at  me?  You  used  to,  occasionally." 

"  I  know "  —she  began,  smiling  up  at 
him.  But  she  did  not  finish,  though  she  did 
look  at  him  as  she  had  never  looked  before, 
and  he  knew  it,  and  was  man  enough  to 
thrill  and  tremble  under  her  tenderly 
searching  gaze.  Please  God,  the  fullness  of 
his  love  might  lessen  the  burden  of  his  faults 
and  incompleteness! 

Slowly  a  confidence  never  to  be  expressed 
in  words  illumined  her  face,  while  her  fin 
gers  strove  for  greater  freedom  in  his  clasp 
— the  beautiful  freedom  of  untried  privi 
leges  and  proprietary  rights,  a  transcendent 
joy  for  him  to  give. 

Presently,  taking  an  envelope  from  his 
pocket,  he  put  it  in  her  hand.  It  had  a 
crooked  address,  and  broken,  untidy  seal, 
and  Barbara  looked  at  it  in  curious  interest, 
while  he  arose  and  stood  before  her. 

78 


: 


C'-pyriK 


A      MERCILESS      SILEN'CE      REIGXED      WHILE      HE      WAITED 


0    «  o  «  o  ooQOO  f3  O   C 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 


"  Will  you  read  it?  "  he  said,  "  and  then," 
in  a  confident  tone,  "  I  am  sure  you  will 
understand  all  the  rest.  You  cannot  help 
it,  Barbara." 

He  walked  slowly  to  the  other  side  of 
the  room  and  took  a  position  in  front  of 
the  fire,  following  blindly  the  instinct 
to  efface  himself  as  much  as  possible, 
that  her  broad,  beautiful,  generous  na 
ture  might  be  wholly  open  to  this  last 
appeal. 

Not  a  sound  but  the  crackling  of  the  fire 
upon  the  hearth  broke  the  stillness  of  the 
room. 

From  outside  came  the  jingle  of  passing 
sleigh-bells. 

He  listened  intently.  It  seemed  as  though 
he  waited  a  long  time.  Could  she  have 
stolen  away?  He  turned  noiselessly  about. 
No,  she  was  there,  but  quite  oblivious  of 
his  presence. 

She  sat  looking  straight  ahead  of  her, 
smiling  faintly,  unshed  tears  upon  her 

79 


V'Vt 

, 


o«     o      e  « 


°      •' 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

lashes,  and  the  soul  he  had  divined  and  wor 
shiped  in  her  eyes. 

"  Oh,  you  darling!  "  she  exclaimed. 

Robert  Belden  did  not  move,  almost  fear 
ing  to  awaken  her  to  a  realization  of  this 
new  world  which  she  had  entered  so  uncon 
sciously  in  response  to  John's  call;  for  he 
comprehended  fully  that  John  was  all  she 
saw,  that  she  had  not  looked  around  and 
did  not  know  that  he  was  there. 

Softly  he  spoke  her  name,  and  she  turned 
a  rapt  face  toward  him. 

"  Barbara,"  once  more  he  called,  while 
struggling  manfully  to  get  his  equilibrium. 
But  the  reaction  from  the  preceding  hours 
was  strong  upon  him,  and  this  new  atmos 
phere,  so  rare  and  intoxicating,  robbed  him 
of  all  discretion. 

He  saw  her  rise,  saw  her  coming  towards 
him,  obedient  to  his  voice,  and  then,  before 
he  knew  it,  he  had  her  in  his  arms,  kissing 
passionately  her  brow  and  eyes,  and  then  her 

lips. 

80 


\ 


• 


O    «  CO 


Their   Hearts'  Desire 

"Oh-h-h-h!"  she  gasped,  as  with  rebel 
lious  hands  she  freed  herself.  "  I  cannot, 
to-morrow — so  soon.  Really,  I  cannot." 

Robert  Belden  walked  the  length  of  the 
room  and  back,  to  gain  perfect  mastery  of 
himself  and  a  fresh  hold  on  the  situation, 
and  then,  with  new  deference,  stood  before 
her. 

"  Yes — yes,  you  can,"  he  asserted.  "  I 
will  not  again  be  guilty  of  appropriat 
ing  John's  Christmas  Gift.  I  know — I 
had  no  right.  It  shall  be  to  me  a  very 
sacred  trust.  I  am  happy — gloriously 
happy,"  beaming  upon  her,  "  and  quite 
content  to  worship  each  day  at  what 
ever  distance  you  may  designate."  The 
tone  was  serious  despite  the  facetious 
words.  "  Forgive  me,  and  believe  me, 
Barbara." 

She  made  no  direct  reply,  but  the  storm 
of  protest  faded  slowly  from  her  face, 
leaving  it  serene  and  happily  contem 
plative. 

81 


Axf 


, 


9  »o 


.o  •r\O      a  » 


\\ 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

"  Well,  there's  one  thing,"  she  began, 
seating  herself  and  regarding  him  solemnly, 
"  I  must  have  time  to  look  into  your 
habits." 

"  My  habits?  "  with  amused  surprise. 

"  Yes,  your  habits,  and  I  have  reason  to 
believe  they  are  very  bad." 

i- 


• 


"  I  presume  they  are  bad,  some  of  them- 


V 


most  of  them,  in  fact,"  he  answered  humbly. 
"  But  I'm  sure  you  can  reform  me  if  you'll 
only  try." 

"  I  know,  but  it's  a  good  deal  to  under 
take,"  she  continued.  "  When  a  man  at  the 
beginning  of  his  career  planted  '  high-ball 
bushes '  in  his  mother's  back  yard,  it's  a 
question  if,  at  the  age  of  forty,  he  isn't  past 
reforming." 

"  So  he  told  you  that,  did  he?"  laugh 
ingly  pinching  her  cheek,   "  but  I'm  not' 
forty,  my  dear,"  he  objected,  adopting  an 
other  tone.     "  You  can't  play  ( summer  in 
the  lap  of  winter  '  with  me.    I'm  willing  to 

be  your  early  autumn  or  Indian  summer,  but 

82 


- 


.  ••••;;..•.; 


..  ,,.,,,, 
Their   Hearts'  Desire 


'if 


that's  the  limit  of  my  indulgence  in  this  par 
ticular  line.  And  it  ought  to  satisfy  any 
reasonable  woman." 

"  Yes,  but  where  do  you  suppose  he  ever 
heard  the  word?"  she  persisted. 

"  Probably  from  Jane.  But,  by  the  way, 
in  regard  to  habits,  I  have  a  word  to  say 
myself.  There  is  no  doubt  in  his  letter 
John  alludes  to  you,  but  this  climbing  busi 
ness  I  don't  quite  grasp.  Now,  was  it  at  the 
party  he  witnessed  this  —  accomplishment  of 
yours?  " 

"How  absurd!"  she  said,  smilingly 
defiant. 

"  Now,  of  course,  my  dear  girl,"  he  con 
tinued,  "  I  want  to  be  lenient,  and  so  I  shall 
not  object  to  your  climbing  in  the  country 
or  unfrequented  parts  of  the  park,  but 
really,  I  can't  have  my  wife  doing  acrobatic 
feats  in  the  drawing-room." 

"  Well,  I  shall  never  obey  —  never  —  about 
anything,"  she  warned  him.  "  Besides," 
more  seriously,  "  it  isn't  at  all  settled  that 
83 


s\ 


«  »  o    o 


e  «       O        O  9 


m  iff 


Vv 


I 


H  \\ 

.T.   •    (LcS 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

you're  going  to  have  a — a — at  least  me,"  she 
finished  lamely. 

"  Barbara!  you're  not  going  to  be  an  In 
dian  giver?  " 

"  No,  but  I  haven't  asked  Louise  and 
Henry  yet,  and  I'm  ashamed  to  tell  them. 
It's — so  disgracefully  sudden." 

"  Never  mind,  dear,  I  will,  as  I  go  out. 
I  am  not  one  bit  ashamed.  Besides,  they 
have  every  reason  to  be  thankful.  It  might 
be  worse,  you  know.  Everything  is  thor 
oughly  respectable,  and — well,  we  might 
elope." 

"Really!  Indeed!"  with  spirit  and 
heightened  color.  "  You  seem  very  sure  of 
yourself,  Dr.  Belden." 

"  No,  not  at  all.  Not  of  myself,  ever, 
with  you.  But  I  am  of  John.  For  you 
know,  Barbara,"  taking  her  chin  in  his  hand 
and  raising  her  face  to  a  more  satisfactory 
angle,  "  you  know  you  would  run  away  with 
John  Belden  at  a  moment's  notice.  Now, 

wouldn't  you?  " 

84 


0       * 


O    <y  o  •>  & 


\\ 


• 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

"  Yes,  with  John,"  she  admitted. 

"  But  not  John's  father?  " 

"  Not  John's  father,"  she  repeated, 
changing  the  inflection. 

"  Which  means,"  with  an  air  of  dejection, 
"  you  do  not  love  him — at  least,  as  much  as 
John." 

Barbara  eyed  him  with  suspicion. 

"  I  think — you're  putting  on,"  she 
said. 

"  You  don't  deny  it." 

"  Oh,  yes — yes,  I  do.  Only — Don't  you 
see?  It's  so  different.  I  have  always  loved 
babies  and  children,  even  when  I  was  noth 
ing  but  a  child  myself.  Why,  I  used  to  bor 
row  all  the  neighbors'  and  pretend  that  they 
were  mine.  While  with  husbands,  why, 
you  know — you  can't— 

"  No,  not  exactly,"  he  agreed,  with  a 
smile.  "  But  to  be  serious,  I  do  see,  dear, 
and  understand  perfectly,  that,  after  the  ad 
vantages  of  dolls  and  borrowed  offspring, 
you  are  quite  ready  for  John,  and  that  it 
85 


«   o 


Their   Hearts'  Desire 

has  not  been  possible,  of  course,  to  make 
similar  preparation  for  me." 

She  laughed  happily  at  his  manner  of 
stating  it. 

"  But  I  have  neglected  some  splendid  op 
portunities,"  she  admitted,  shaking  her  head 
regretfully.  "  Month  after  month  I  scorned 
all  the  women's  magazines  had  to  offer  on 
Husbands;  how  to  pick  one,  how  to  train 
and  manage  one,  even  how  to  hold  one." 

"  H'm'm!  It  sounds  like  the  study  of  a 
real  beast,  doesn't  it? "  he  commented 
grimly. 

"  Then,"  she  continued,  "  there  are  sug 
gestions  for  the  intelligent  diversion  of 
the—" 

"  Beast?  "  he  questioned. 

"  Yes,  and  recipes  for  dishes  calculated  to 
keep  the— 

"  Beast,"  he  suggested  again. 

She  nodded  her  head.  "  Mild  and  tract 
able.  So  you  see,"  she  continued,  "  I  will 
just  have  to  cram  between  now  and- 


;      o 

: 

yt 

r* 


'/w 


O  o   o 


o«O        O  O  O  O  O  * 


Their   Hearts'  Desire 

"  No,  I  don't  see  at  all,"  he  interrupted 
her.  "  The  other  Beauty  didn't,  and  her 
beast  came  out  beautifully;  and  I'm  bound 
to  evolute  in  time,  dear.  Don't  be  disheart 
ened.  But  I'll  have  to  go,"  turning  to  look 
at  the  clock.  "  I  have  a  poor  devil  waiting 
for  me  at  the  hospital,  and  I'm  almost  due. 
I  shall  come  in  for  a  little  while  to-night, 
if  I  may,  and  if  you  should  want  me  for 
any  reason  before,  why,  I  am  at  your  service 
— just  as  I've  always  been.  Good-bye." 

He  leaned  over,  and  taking  her  hands, 
drew  her  to  her  feet.  "  There  isn't  any  one 
in  all  the  world  so  sweet  as  you,  or  half  as 
good,"  he  said. 


M» 


&        * 


••• 


our 


Chapter 


'    x  o.. 


o    o  0)  V>^ 

./  (  ffi  BARBARA  stood  quite  still  where  Robert 
left  her,  as  in  a  dream,  which  slowly  faded 
with  his  receding  footsteps. 

She  heard  him  as  he  bounded  eagerly  up 
the  stairs;  heard  his  firm,  reliant  tread  in 
the  direction  of  Henry  Strong's  study,  and 
finally  the  closing  of  the  study  door. 

That  ended  her  somnambulent  condition, 
and  starting,  in  sudden  realization  of  mun 
dane  limitations,  she  wished  that  she  were 
with  him;  waiting  was  so  hard,  and  every 
insignificant  sound  startled  her. 

She  wandered  aimlessly  about  the  room. 
What  were  they  doing,  she  wondered,  and 
what  was  Robert  saying?  What  was  he  tell 
ing — how  could  he  tell  this  wonderful  thing 
which  she,  as  yet,  hardly  dared  whisper  to 
herself — that  he  loved  her — Barbara — and 
that  she  loved  him — oh,  so  dearly!  She 


i 


V 


«>  » 


\\ 


Their   Hearts'  Desire 

[r  ^;  passed  the  back  of  a  pink-palmed  hand 
across  her  eyes,  to  shield  them  from  the 
blinding  glory  of  the  thought. 

But  the  rest,  would  it  seem  lightly 
reckoned  to  grave  Henry  Strong  that 
already,  so  quickly,  the  time  was  set? 
It  was  incredible!  The  wild  beating  of 
her  heart  increased  every  second,  while 
she  longed,  yet  dreaded  to  hear  the  study 
door  open. 

Seating  herself,  she  spread  with  trem 
bling  hands  her  handkerchief  upon  her  lap, 
and  pulled  out  the  rumpled  corners  with 
scrupulous  care.  Its  perfect  smoothness  ac 
complished,  she  folded  the  square  of  linen 
diagonally  across,  doubled  over  opposing 
ends,  continued  a  rolling  manipulation  with 
her  deft  fingers,  until  there  emerged,  as 
from  the  hands  of  a  real  magician,  a  pseudo- 
mouse  of  nursery  origin. 

She  paused  a  moment  to  listen,  and  then 
abstractedly  applied  a  few  finishing  touches 

to  the  head   and  tail, — presumably   such, 
92 


Y 


JBS 


/ 


-TO  ,.f  rr,   o«j..O  -•;« 

jN. 


..•/V"0  O  « 


.1  A 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

since  they  were  at  opposing  ends,  though 
identical  in  contour. 

Then,  at  last!  She  sprang  to  her  feet,  the 
newly-created  mouse  clutched  savagely  in 
one  tense  hand.  An  expectant  light  came 
into  her  wide-open  eyes,  for  voices  sounded 
in  the  hall  above,  then  lightly  falling  foot 
steps,  a  cry  of  "  Barbara,  Barbara,  I'm  so 
glad,"  and  she  was  in  Louise's  arms. 

"  And  I  am  so  happy,"  she  said,  her  head 
on  the  coveted  shoulder. 

"  So  is  Robert,  dear." 

"  And  so  ashamed." 

"  Robert  isn't.  He's  positively  brazen 
with  joy  and  triumph.  And  pray,  what  are 
you  ashamed  of,  you  old  sweet  thing?  "  giv 
ing  her  a  squeeze  for  emphasis. 

"  Of  to-morrow!  "  and  Barbara,  drawing 
herself  up,  looked  appealingly  at  her  friend. 
"  Does  it  seem  frivolous,  or  thoughtless, 
or  unwomanly  so  soon?"  she  questioned. 
"  I  couldn't  help  it,  really,"  and  she  wiped 
away  a  happy  tear  with  the  inanimate  mouse. 


O  ,00 


\(7 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

l;i  ^k  "  But  it  does  seem  dreadful,  Louise.  Think 
of  being  engaged  one  day  and  married  the 
next!  Oh,"  she  cried,  a  sudden  wave  of 
realization  troubling  her,  "  do  you  realize 
it's  to-morrow?  To-morrow!  And  here  it 
is  to-day  already!  " 

She  rose  as  if  about  to  run  away,  then 
turning,  looked  foolishly  down  into  her 
companion's  face.  "  I  wonder,"  she  said 
musingly,  "  if  I'm  getting  l  luny,'  as  Maria 
says.  So  much  has  happened— 

"  I'm  inclined  to  believe  you  are,"  re 
plied  Louise,  her  eyes  bent  upon  the  floor, 
an  inscrutable  expression  on  her  face. 

Barbara's  eyes  sought  the  same  point  of 
interest,  and  fell  upon  the  forlorn,  bedrag 
gled  mouse  that  lay  between  them.  She 
stooped  to  get  it,  but  Louise  was  before  her, 
and  taking  it  gingerly  between  forefinger 
and  thumb,  held  it  up  for  inspection. 

"  It's  a  beauty  of  its  kind,"  she  com 
mented,  "  but  if  on  the  very  brink  of  matri 
mony  it's  indicative  of  your  mental  state,  I 

94 


ta. 


JET 


O         O 


•  O  9  • 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

really  think  you  are  '  luny,'  "  and  she  smiled 
commiseratingly.  "  But  Barbara,"  in  a  new 
tone,  "  there  is  one  thing  I  should  like  to 
know,  if  it  isn't  presuming  to  ask.  Why, 
since  you  seem  so  troubled  by  the  alacrity 
with  which  things  are  moving  along — why 
are  you  letting  them  move?  " 

"Oh,  don't  you  know?  Didn't  he  tell 
you?  " 

"  No,  he  didn't.  At  least,  I  didn't  wait  to 
hear.  It  was  all  such  a  relief,  after  my  hour 
of  suspense,"  and  Louise  Strong  heaved  an 
exaggerated  sigh. 

"  Suspense?  "  said  Barbara. 

"  Yes,  suspense,  my  dear.  Of  course,  you 
don't  know,  but  this  morning  Robert  Belden 
boldly  asked  me  to  vacate  my  own  library, 
and  send  you  to  him.  He  didn't  say  why," 
shaking  her  head  expressively,  "  but  from 
the  look  in  his  eye  and  the  queer  little  catch 
in  his  voice — don't  you  just  love  his  voice, 
Barbara? — I  knew  something  was  about  to 
happen." 


: 


•. 


O  00 


«  «       O        «  * 


• 


Their   Hearts'  Desire 

Barbara  said  nothing,   only  smiled  en 
couragement. 

"  Well,"  Louise  went  on,  "  after  you  went 
downstairs,  I  couldn't  stand  to  be  alone,  so 
I  just  went  straight  to  Henry  Strong's  study 
and  climbed  into  his  lap,  right  in  the  middle 
of  his  sermon  on  (  The  Eternal  Fitness  of 
Things,'  and  held  my  breath,  and  pinched 
the  pious  rector  of  St.  Mark's  Church,  and 
prayed  a  little  for  us  all,  and  dear  old  Bob 
in  particular.  And  I  felt  all  the  time  as 
though  I  were  going  to  explode,  and  " 
stopping  for  breath — "  Henry  was  dying  of 
curiosity,  of  course,  like  all  men,  and  I  was 
going  to  tell  him,  and  then  I  couldn't  till 
I  knew;  so  I  just  said, '  Henry  Strong,  don't 
ask  questions  or  talk,  or  do  anything  but 
wish  that  what  I'm  wishing  will  come  true.' 
And  then  I  took  the  pencil  away,  closed  his 
books  and  got  just  as  close  to  him  as  I  could 
get,  and  he  had  to  give  up  *  The  Eternal 
Fitness  of  Things '  and  devote  himself  to  the 

awful  **wfitness  of  me." 
96 


. 


e«       O     -   O  O 


0  ft  •    * 


Their   Hearts'  Desire 

Barbara,  laughing,  drew  closer.  She 
wanted  to  know  the  rest. 

"And  oh!"  Louise  exclaimed,  "when  I 
heard  Robert's  step  in  the  hall  I  almost  ran 
to  the  door,  and  when — I — saw  him — well, 
I'm  not  perfectly  sure,"  in  a  subdued  tone, 
"  you'll  have  to  ask  him,  Barbara,  but  I 
think  I  hugged  him,  and  I  don't  know  for 
how  long." 

"  Oh-h-h,"  said  Barbara,  flushing  at  the 
mere  thought. 

"  Then  I  heard  him  say,  '  People,  she  has 
said  yes,'  and  something  about  its  being  to 
morrow,  and  then  I  ran  away  to  you.  So 
that  is  all  I  know." 

"  Then  read  this,  dear,"  and  Barbara  gave 
her  John's  letter.  "  It's  my  only  vindication 
for  the  to-morrow  part." 

Louise  glanced  over  it.  "  Vindication!  " 
she  cried.  "  You  don't  need  a  vindication. 
And  bless  his  lonely  little  heart!  Whoever 
would  have  guessed  it!  But  out  of  the 

clouds,    dear,"    she    cried,    jumping    up. 
97 


Their   Hearts'  Desire 

"  Give  up  dreaming  and  the  making  of 
mice  for  a  while  and  think  about  the  real 
necessities  of  life,  wedding  gowns  and 
things." 

"  I  know  I  must.  There  isn't  time  to  get 
a  real  wedding  dress,  but  I  believe," 
thoughtfully,  "  I  have  something  that  will 
do  very  well.  It's  white,  of  the  finest  batiste, 
Louise,  and  trimmed  in  a  lot  of  real  Val. 
It's  very  pretty,  really.  I  got  it  just  before  " 
— she  stopped  in  sudden  recollection — "  and 
only  wore  it  once,"  she  went  on  softly,  "  and 
father  admired  it  so — liked  it  better  than 
anything  I  had,  and  somehow,  since,  I  have 
never  had  the  heart  to  put  it  on.  But 
now— 

"  Now  it's  different,"  ended  Louise  cheer 
ily,  but  she  laid  a  hand  tenderly  on  Bar 
bara's. 

"  Yes,  and  I'll  get  the  dress  out  for  you 
to  see,"  Barbara  went  on,  bravely  smiling 
through  her  tears. 

"  And  I'll  go  and  interview  my  '  black 


\ 


\\ 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

Maria '  in  the  kitchen,  and  then  I'll  come 
upstairs  and  we'll  talk  it  all  over  and  decide 
on  everything,  and  after  that  you  needn't 
expect  to  see  anything  more  of  me  this  morn 
ing.  Why,  here's  Henry,"  she  announced, 
as  her  husband  appeared  on  the  scene. 

Henry  Strong's  expression  alone  would 
have  been  quite  enough  to  assure  Barbara 
of  his  entire  approval,  and  the  warm  clasp 
of  his  hand  and  words  of  congratulation 
were  all  that  was  needed  to  fill  her  cup  to 
overflowing. 

"  I'll  have  to  congratulate  you,  my  girl, 
even  if  it  is  bad  form,"  he  said,  "  for  I  know 
the  man." 

"  You're  awfully  good  to  me,  and  I  don't 
know  what  to  say  in  defence  of  forcing  a 
wedding  on  the  family,"  she  said,  looking 
from  one  to  the  other.  "  But  it's  partly  Rob 
ert's  fault  and  partly  John's — only  a  third 
mine.  And  I  do  hope,"  she  continued,  "  you 
won't  burden  yourselves  with  the  arrange 
ments.  Let  it  all  be  simple  and  natural — 
99 


, 


/\\ 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

just  ourselves  and  the  children.  Really,  I'd 
much  rather  have  it  so.  Anyway,"  turning 
to  Louise,  "  you  know  how  prone  you  are 
to  headaches—  She  got  no  further. 

"  Aha!  I  recognize  my  opportunity,  vile 
oppressor!"  cried  Louise  in  tragic  tones. 
"  You  remember,"  facing  Barbara  in  fiend 
ish  glee,  "Jo's  party? — and  me? — in  bed? 
Well,  I'm  master  of  ceremonies  this  time, 
and  except  for  preferences  meekly  ex 
pressed,  I  shall  brook  no  interference  from 
you,  my  lovely  bride  to  be!  And  now,  fare 
well.  You  people  can  dwell  on  the  spiritual 
and  romantic  side  of  things  all  day,  but  I 
must  attend  to  beautifying  the  surroundings 
of  the  bride  and  the  satisfying  of  the  inner 
groom,  to  say  nothing  of  the  officiating 
clergy,"  and  she  gently  tweaked  the  nose  of 
her  admiring  spouse  and  swept  out  of  the 
room. 

But  the  rector  soon  returned  to  his  un 
finished  discourse,  and  Barbara,  after  a 

brief  conference  with  Louise,  was  left  to  her 

100 


' 


\ 


\\ 


\\ 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

own  devices,  which  were  of  an  exceedingly 
shadowy  and  inconsequent  character. 

She  never  had  a  very  distinct  recollection 
of  that  morning,  except  the  element  of  joy 
that  pervaded  everything,  even  the  very  air 
she  breathed. 

She  faithfully  essayed  occupation  but  ac 
complished  little,  for  a  deep,  melodious 
voice  of  which  she  never  lost  entire  con 
sciousness,  interposed  persistently,  again  and 
again,  in  words  that  sent  her  wits  a- 
wool-gathering  and  drove  her,  in  a  state 
of  blissful  consternation,  to  the  reassur 
ing  perusal  of  John's  letter,  which  some 
how  seemed  to  hold  the  balance  of  the 
world. 

But  finally,  little  by  little,  out  of  chaos, 
a  memorandum  for  the  prospective  after 
noon's  shopping  was  evolved,  in  obedience 
to  Louise's  parting  injunction.  It  was  not 
remarkably  explicit  or  lucid,  even  to  Bar 
bara  herself,  and  she  quailed  at  the  thought 
of  Louise's  bantering  scorn. 


IOI 


ff 


« «     o      •  • 


O  • 


Their   Hearts'  Desire 

However,  judging  from  the  glowing,  con 
tented  faces  presented  at  the  Strong  dinner 
table  that  evening,  and  the  tales  of  endless 
purchases  with  which  the  man  of  the  house 
was  regaled :  tales  continually  confirmed  by 
the  delivery  of  packages  large,  small,  and 
medium,  at  the  front,  side,  and  rear  doors, 
certainly  the  expedition  had  proven  a  suc 
cess,  and  exhilaration  reaching  the  point 
of  irresponsibility  possessed  the  shoppers. 
They  fairly  gloried  in  exhausted  bank  ac 
counts,  insisting  that  not  a  sou  remained, 
that  even  the  copper  funds  hoarded  by  the 
minister's  household  for  the  clothing  and 
education  of  African  heathen  had  been  con 
fiscated. 

After  dinner  Barbara  repaired  to  her 
room  to  rest;  at  least,  that  is  what  she  said 
and  meant  to  do.  What  she  really  needed 
was  to  be  alone,  to  find  herself.  As  the  hour 
of  Robert's  coming  drew  near,  she  was  con 
trolled,  first,  by  a  wild  desire  to  see  him, 
and  then  by  an  equally  wild  desire  to  run 


4 


1  02 


J3Z 


v 


o  «       000 


r-% 


iw 


,»    A.  ,  O  *   • 


A'  V\ 


' 


Their   Hearts'  Desire 

away.  For  with  physical  exhaustion  and  the 
night  had  come  some  doubts  and  perturba 
tion. 

At  present  the  future  lay  before  her  like  a 
strange  land  to  whose  very  gates  she  had 
been  swept  unwittingly.  And  now  her  girl 
hood  pleaded  for  a  moment's  respite  in 
which  to  live  over  a  happy  past,  enjoy  life 
as  it  was  for  a  while,  and  steal,  perchance,  a 
tiny  glimpse  into  the  future. 

Oh,  if  it  were  only  next  week,  instead  of 
to-morrow,  this  future !  The  present  was  so 
perfect,  and  she  could  change  it  all  and  be  a 
New  Year's  present  just  as  well.  She  could 
write  John  herself,  explaining  how  it  was, 
that  she  was  late  in  getting  in — from  Mars. 
And  all  the  time  she  knew  she  wouldn't— 
that  she  couldn't.  That  he  who  had  brought 
her  to  the  gate  would  carry  her  beyond. 
She  could  feel  the  firm  clasp  of  his  hand 
and  his  compelling  eyes,  and  she  was — be 
truthful,  Barbara!  yes,  glad  to  go. 

Nevertheless,  she  whimsically  arraigned 
103 


JBS 


- 


/$T 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

him  before  her  woman's  bar  of  justice,  the 
charge,  "  unlawful  coercion." 

He  had  been  merciless,  had  taken  every 
advantage  of  her  weakness,  but  her  mental 
picture  of  him  somehow  quashed  the  ac 
cusation.  "  No,  he  was  not  splendidly  hand 
some  enough  to  be  a  real  villain,"  she  re 
flected  with  smiling  tenderness.  "  Neither 
was  his  coloring  sufficiently  intense." 

Putting  out  the  light,  Barbara  drew  aside 
the  curtains,  leaning  her  elbows  on  the  sill 
and  her  face  in  her  hands. 

That  nothing  stood  for  long  in  Robert 
Belden's  way  was  true,  not  because  he  domi 
neered,  but  that  he  dominated.  Intensely 
human,  life  in  all  its  phases  touched  him, 
but  his  very  bearing  spoke  control  and  well- 
directed  manhood,  and  one  always  felt  his 
personality  was  plus  their  realization  of  it; 
that  there  was  more  strength,  more  fire, 
more  tenderness  than  they  could  see. 

And  so,  with  the  influence  of  his  personal 
ity  strong  upon  her,  there  grew  in  Barbara 


O     9  O 


^ 


& 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

a  firm  reliance  in  his  power  to  recognize 
and  banish  all  forms  of  doubt  and  fear,  even 
the  husband  himself  if  need  be;  and  after 
watching  his  approach  to  the  house,  she  did 
not  even  wait  to  be  summoned,  but  de 
scended  the  stairs  with  glad  anticipation 
and  noiselessly  entered  the  room. 

He  was  standing  with  his  back  to  the 
door  and  did  not  hear  or  see  her. 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  glad  you've  come,"  she  said, 
laying  a  hand  ever  so  lightly  upon  his  arm. 
It  was  promptly  covered  with  one  of  his. 
He  turned  and  looked  at  her. 

"  Why,  you've  grown  more  beautiful 
since  morning,  Barbara,"  he  said  with  won 
derment. 

"  No,  only  happier,"  discreetly  withdraw 
ing  her  hand. 

"  I  like  to  hold  it, — it's — no  trouble,"  he 
assured  her  with  a  whimsical  smile. 

"  No,  but — won't  you  have  a  chair?  "  she 
questioned,  taking  one  herself. 

"  Instead?  Thanks,  awfully,"  amused  at 
105 


Their   Hearts'  Desire 


the    unusual    formality.      '  But,    Barbara, 


what's  the  matter  with  the  room?  "  looking 
about  with  curiosity  at  the  pile  of  curtains 


on  the  couch,  an  occasional  rolled  up  rug, 
misplaced  furniture,  and  a  general  air  of 
confusion  and  preparation.  "  It  looks  as  if 
it  were  on  the  brink  of  a  revolution." 

"  I  guess  it  is.  Some  one's  going  to  be 
married  in  here  to-morrow." 

"Really?  How  interesting!  And  what's 
that  over  there?  " 

"  Where?  "  looking  around. 

"  There,"  indicating  a  large  expanse, 
quite  devoid  of  furniture. 

"  Oh,    that?     The    place    of    execution, 


'Two?    What    a    shame! 

young  and  handsome,   I  presume. 

106 


• 


\\ 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

some,  isn't  it?  "  he  said,  assuming  his  favor 
ite  position  before  the  fire. 

"  Dreadfully  gruesome.  Would  you 
rather  go  to  the  drawing-room?  "  she  en 
quired,  knowing  well  what  the  answer 
would  be. 

"Horrors!     No." 

She  laughed  softly  at  him,  and  then  turn 
ing  her  gaze  again  on  the  fateful  spot,  be 
came  suddenly  grave  and  silent.  Robert 
grew  restless.  An  air  of  remoteness  about 
her  troubled  him. 

Closely  he  scrutinized  her  face.  Just  the 
profile  was  visible,  but  it  was  very  sweet  and 
womanly,  and  child-like  too,  he  thought, 
and  it  came  to  him  the  first  time  that  day 
what  to-morrow  meant  to  Barbara.  It 
meant  a  great  deal  to  him,  a  man.  Not 
withstanding  his  happiness,  the  day  had  not 
passed  without  serious  thought.  It  meant 
a  great  deal  more  to  her,  a  woman. 

Impulsively  he  poked  the  smouldering 

logs  on  the  andirons,  an  involuntary  expres- 
107 


\\ 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

sion  of  a  thought  to  cheer.  With  quick 
flame  and  lively  crackle  the  fire  brightened 
the  prospect,  making  even  obscure  things 
softly  roseate  and  giving  Robert  courage  to 
enquire: 

"  You're  not  frightened,  Barbara,  or  sorry 
it's — to-morrow?  " 

"  No,"  turning  slowly  toward  him. 
"  No,  not  when  I'm  with  you,"  she 
said. 

"  And  when  you  are  not?  " 

"A  little." 

"  And  that's  why,"  exultantly  advancing 
upon  her,  "  you  were  glad  when  I  came  to 
night?  " 

"  I  guess  so,"  looking  up  at  him  fool 
ishly,  "  for  this  afternoon  you  seemed  quite 
— formidable,  and  now  you  are  here,  you 
are  just  plain  Robert  Belden,  M.D.,  and 
I'm  not  afraid  a  bit." 

To  prove  it  she  leaned  a  bit  toward  him, 
lightly  brushing  her  cheek  against  his  coat 

sleeve. 

1 08 


o  o 


t\  (A 


\ 


Their   Hearts'  Desire 

"Barbara!  you  child!" 

He  wanted,  oh,  all  sorts  of  things  for  an 
instant,  and  then  contented  himself,  having 
learned  that  what  she  freely  gave  was 
sweeter  far  than  what  he  took,  and  unfail 
ingly  heralded  a  greater  blessing. 

After  a  moment's  happy  silence,  he  drew 
up  a  chair.  "  Tell  me,"  he  said,  "  what  you 
have  been  doing  all  day." 

"  Well,"  she  began,  "  I  met  Louise  at 
Clancy's  about  one,  where  we  had  lunch, 
and  then  she  piloted  me  around,  and  oh,  the 
things  we  bought!—  '  getting  ready  to 
enumerate  them  on  her  fingers.  "  Trains 
of  cars,  silk  dresses  for  cooks,  firemen's 
suits,  marbles,  negligees,  a  coat,  toy  automo 
biles,  a  drum,  Christmas  tree  decora 
tions,  two  dolls,  gloves,  two  watches,  ten 
books " 

"  Oh,  stop,  have  pity,"  he  cried,  impris 
oning  her  hands.  "  My  head  is  spinning 
and  you  put  me  to  shame.  I  was  on  the 

rampage   three  whole   hours   myself,    and 
109 


\M 


004        O 


- 


/./         \\ 


TAe/r   Hearts'  Desire 

this  " — laying  a  small  white  box  in  her  lap, 
"  is  all  I  managed  to  bring  home." 

Barbara  opened  it  and  exclaimed  with 
delight  as  she  viewed  the  contents  admir 
ingly  from  all  angles  and  in  all  lights. 
Then,  in  a  practically  interested  tone,  and 
with  an  inquiring  upward  glance,  "  For 
Jane,  or  the  cook?  "  she  said. 

"  Neither.     The  new  housekeeper." 

"  Oh!  "  striving  to  be  unconcerned. 

"  Do  you  think  she'll  like  it?  "  anxiously. 

"  She'll  love  it,  I'm  sure,  only—  "  steal 
ing  another  look  at  him,  "  aren't  you  afraid 
you're  spoiling  her?  " 

"Not  a  bit." 

"With  such  a  beginning!  why,  she'll  be 
expecting  diamond  tiaras  and  ruby  stom 
achers  at  the  end  of  six  months." 

"Gracious!  You  don't  mean  it!"  and 
Robert  Belden  wrinkled  his  brow  with  well 
assumed  anxiety.  "  Well,"  slipping  the 
ring  on  her  finger  with  sudden  resolution, 

"  it  will  have  to  be  thoroughly  understood, 
no 


o  o     o 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

then,  that  this  is  simply  a  retaining  fee,  to 
preclude  all  other  possible  engagements, 
and  not  a  forerunner  of  emblazoned  breast 
plates  and  headgear.  But  I'm  so  glad  it 
fits,  dear,  and  that  you  like  it,"  he  added 
softly,  "  and  I  hope  it  heralds  only  the  best 
for  you,  my  girl." 

"  It  does,  I  know.     It  heralds  you." 

"  That's  very  sweet,  and  I  shall  try  to 
prove  it  true.  But  about  the  arrangements 
for  this — '  execution '  I  believe  you  called 
it?  You  haven't  told  me  a  thing,  and  I'm 
really  interested." 

"At  six,  in  here,  just  the  family — and 
your  brother,  is  he  coming?  " 

"  Yes.  The  only  member  of  the  family 
available  on  such  short  notice.  But  I 
talked  over  the  long  distance  with  Sue  to 
day." 

"  Oh,  what  did  she  say?  Was  she 
shocked?  " 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,  only,  of  course,  it  was 
>  a  trifle  startling.  But  after  she  got  through 


o  «       O         O 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

gasping  and  saying  (  Robert!  Really,  you 
don't  mean  it! '  and  so  on,  she  sent  all  kinds 
of  loving  messages  to  you,  seeming  to  forget 
that  I  existed.  Then  she  wanted  to  gossip 
as  to  when  and  where  it  happened,  the  exact 
color  of  your  hair  and  eyes,  how  old  you 
are — really  impudent  questions,  Barbara. 
I  had  to  call  a  halt." 

They  laughed  merrily.  "  I  think  you'll 
have  a  line  from  her  to-morrow,"  he 
added. 

Then  they  talked  of  John,  and  Jane,  and 
of  what  John's  life  had  been,  and  what  it 
was  to  be,  even  to  his  senior  year  at 
college. 

And  Barbara  imparted  her  plans  for  their 
first  Christmas  day  and  the  denouement  in 
the  morning,  and  in  response  to  eager  in 
quiries,  Robert  told  her  of  John's  hopes  and 
fears,  as  indicated  by  conversation  with  him 
self  and  Jane. 

"  Strange,"  he  said,  "  that  while  the  little 
shaver  seems  to  have  it  so  constantly  in  mind, 

112 


\\ 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

and  alludes  to  it  frequently,  he  has  never 
consciously  betrayed  himself.  He  goes  just 
so  far,  and  no  farther." 

"  Do  you  really  believe  he  expects  me?  " 
Barbara  asked. 

"  Perhaps  not  you.  No,  I  don't  believe 
he  does.  For  I  think  he  feels  somehow  that 
mothers  are  matters  of  direct  inheritance, 
and  scarcely  available  in  this  world.  That's 
why  he's  banking  on  another  planet." 

"Bless  him!  Isn't  he  funny — but  pa 
thetic,  too,"  she  said. 

"  Yes,  he  has  literally  '  hitched  his  wagon 
to  a  star.'  He  not  only  believes,  but  his 
faith  absorbs  him — all  but  his  appetite. 
He  still  eats,  I'm  glad  to  say." 

"  I  can  hardly  wait  for  Christmas  to 
come,"  and  Barbara  glowed  with  enthusi 
asm. 

"  Neither  can  I ;  only,  of  course,"  with  a 
resigned  air,  "  I  don't  expect  to  figure  much, 
rising,  "  you  are  tired  and  sleepy. 
Oh,  yes  you  are,"  he  insisted  when  she  shook 
"3 


\\ 


0  • 


772e/r   Hearts9  Desire 

her  head,  "  and  I'm  not  going  to  keep  you 
up  another  minute.  Just  think,  Barbara," 
his  voice  growing  low  and  tender,  "  I'm 
saying  good-bye,  and  I  shall  not  come  again, 
unless  I'm  needed,  till  I  come  to  take  you 
home.  Home,  dear,  our  home,  and  John's. 
I  cannot  tell  you  what  it  means— 
what  it  will  mean  to  have  you  always 
there." 

He  smiled  in  seeming  indecision,  then 
took  a  position  behind  her,  resting  his  arms 
on  the  back  of  her  chair. 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  what  I  did  to-night?  " 
he  asked.  "  I  forgot  when  I  said  I  brought 
only  the  ring  home,  for  on  the  way  from 
the  jeweler's  I  saw — some  sort  of — work- 
box.  That's  what  made  me  late  for  dinner. 
It  took  so  long  to  find  just  the  right  one, 
and  get  it  properly  equipped.  Guess  I  was 
hard  to  suit,"  he  admitted,  laughing,  and 
he  stopped  to  push  in  place  a  loosened  hair 
pin  and  admire  the  shining  braids  that 

crowned  her  head. 

114 


%  * 


o    o  O     O 


Their   Hearts'  Desire 

"  And  what  did  you  do?  "  Barbara  ques 
tioned. 

"  Well,  after  dinner,  in  the  living  room, 
where  I  always  sit,  I  drew  into  place  oppo 
site,  but  not  very  far  from  mine,  a  low, 
easy  chair — the  one  you  always  use  when 
you  come  to  see  me  in  my  dreams,  and  I 
put  a  little  stool  before  it  for  your  feet. 
On  the  table  you  will  find  your  friends 
Tom  Moore,  '  The  Brushwood  Boy,' 
and  Barrie's  '  Little  White  Bird,'  and 
beside  them  a  dish  of  violets  that  I 
fixed  myself.  Then,  on  the  other  side 
of  the  table,  near  the  lamp,  is  the  sewing- 
box,  Barbara,  and — guess  what  is  in 
side." 

"  Scissors." 

"  Little  ones,  with  gold  handles." 

"And  thread." 

"  Yes." 

"  And  needles." 

"  Enough  to  last  a  lifetime,  I  should 
think.  But  try  again." 


^  !: 


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o  e  • 


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Their  Hearts'  Desire 

"  Why,  I  can't  think.  Oh,  yes,  how 
stupid!  A  thimble,  of  course." 

"  Yes,  and  other  things,  including  an 
appetizing  red  silk  radish,  a  new  Burbank 
variety,  I  presume,  for  polishing  needles. 
But  none  of  these  are  the  things  I  mean, 
dear.  Guess  again." 

"  Why,  I  can't  imagine,  really,"  she  said, 
puckering  her  brow. 

He  leaned  over  her.  "  My  gloves,"  he 
whispered,  "  that  need  mending,  and  have 
a  button  off.  You — don't  mind?"  a  bit 
abashed  at  his  presumption.  "  There's  a 
box  of  Alegrettis  in  the  table  drawer,"  he 
added  lightly,  with  a  boyish  idea  of  redeem 
ing  himself. 

She  put  one  slim  hand  over  her  shoulder 
to  get  him,  and  he  found  her  eyes  full  of 
tears  when  he  faced  her,  and  one  big,  over 
grown,  unmanageable  one  had  fallen  out 
upon  her  cheek. 

"  Why,  what's  the  matter,  mein  liebchen? 

You  don't  have  to— 

116 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

"Oh,   it   isn't  that,"   she   cried.     "You 

know  it  isn't.     But  I  am — you  are " 

J 

'  The  luckiest  man  on  earth,"  he  fin 
ished,  her  flushed  face  between  his  palms. 
"  I  know  it  without  being  told,  dear  heart."- 

They  went  up  the  stairs  together.  At 
the  top  Mrs.  Strong  took  Barbara  in  charge, 
and  Robert  sought  the  Rector  for  a  half 
hour's  quiet  talk  and  a  good  cigar. 


ii: 


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er 


THE  following  evening,  at  the  same  time 
that  John  Belden,  with  Adam  and  Jane  in 
attendance,  was  partaking  of  his  evening 
meal,  in  blissful  ignorance  of  the  pregnancy 
of  the  hour,  the  idol  of  his  dreams  stood 
the  center  of  an  admiring  group. 

Mrs.  Strong,  putting  a  few  finishing 
touches  here  and  there,  viewed  her  with 
critical  satisfaction,  and  Elizabeth  and  Jo, 
who  had  been  admitted  to  witness  the  com 
pletion  of  the  bridal  array,  with  feelings  of 
awe  and  childish  delight,  while  Margaret, 
whose  admiration  completely  absorbed  her 
German  mentality,  sat  mechanically  by, 
holding  as  in  a  vise  the  ten-months-old 
Henry  Strong,  Jr.  He  divided  his  atten 
tion  between  vicious  attacks  on  a  rubber 
rooster  and  soulful  appeals  to  Barbara  to 
take  him. 


J52 


ff 


Their   Hearts'  Desire 

Why  she  didn't  he  couldn't  in  the  least 
understand,  and  after  each  futile  appeal, 
dashed  the  rooster  vindictively  to  the  floor 
and  scolded  lustily  until  Margaret  was  suffi 
ciently  aroused  to  restore  it  to  his  capricious 
hands. 

"  No,  you  are  not  going  to  your  Auntie 
Barbara  to-night,  young  man,"  his  mother 
said,  as  he  made  another  demand  for  Bar 
bara's  attention.  "  Lay  him  down  on  the 
couch,  nurse,  and  get  his  bottle  so  that  he 
may  have  it  promptly  at  six.  Now  I  must 
go  downstairs.  I  think  I  heard  the  front 
door  close.  Which  probably  means  the 
groom,  and  he  may  need  me  to  lean  upon, 
who  knows?  He's  such  a  timid  lad." 

"  And  you'd  be  such  a  healthy  prop." 

"  Don't  be  too  scornful.     You  may  have 


need  of  me  yourself  before  the  evening  s 


over,"  warned  Mrs.  Strong,  starting  on  a 


final   tour   of   inspection.      '  Well,   you're 


perfect,  absolutely,  dress  and  all,"  she  an 


nounced,  rounding  up  in  front  of  the  bride, 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

"  and  you  look  like  an  angel — or  madonna, 
or  something,  I  don't  know  what.  Now 
kiss  me,  and  obey  instructions.  This  may 
be  a  small  affair,  but  it  has  to  go  off  with 
some  degree  of  system  and  eclat.  Now 
don't  forget,"  admonishing  with  her  fore 
finger,  "  that  as  soon  as  you  hear  the  first 
notes — I  mean—  correcting  herself 

hastily,  "  I  mean  as  soon  as  the  clock  strikes, 
you  are  to  come." 

"Why  can't  I  go  down  now,  with  you? 
I'm  ready." 

"  Why,  Barbara,  my  dear,  I  wouldn't 
think  of  allowing  it.  Who  ever  heard  of 
a  decorous  bride  presenting  herself  at  the 
altar  ahead  of  time?  "  and  Mrs.  Strong  tried 
to  frown.  "  I'm  shocked.  You,  of  all 
people!  Besides,  I  want  a  moment  to  look 
over  the  groom,  in  the  absence  of  the  female 
members  of  his  family,  and  see  that  the 
flowers  and  candles  are  in  working  order. 
Come,  children." 

"  Oh,  please  let  them  wait  and  come  with 
123 


o  «       O        O 


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\\ 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

me.  Almost  all  brides  have  some  attend 
ants,"  argued  this  one. 

"  Well,"  pausing  to  consider,  "  I  don't 
mind,  if  you'll  promise  to  keep  them  at 
arm's  length.  But  remember,  both  of  you," 
turning  to  the  young  hopefuls,  "  don't  you 
dare  to  touch  your  Aunt  Barbara,  and  walk 
downstairs  ahead  of  her,  so  you  will  not 
step  on  her  dress,"  and  gathering  up  the 
trailing  folds  of  her  own  blue  gown,  Mrs. 
Strong  proceeded  downstairs. 

"  April  fool,"  she  drawled  in  sing-song 
fashion,  encountering  the  impatient  groom's 
expectant  eye  and  advancing  form  as  she 
entered  the  library.  Then  she  sailed  airily 
by  to  greet  his  brother,  their  only  guest. 
"  I'm  so  glad  you're  here,"  she  said. 

"  So  am  I,"  George  Belden  responded. 
"  But  it  was  such  a  surprise  I  hardly  got 
my  breath  in  time  to  come." 

"  Or  I,  in  time  to  have  you.  I  tell  you, 
these  are  strenuous  times  we  are  living 


in.' 


124 


is. 


O    o 


</ 


:     -ti    ix 


\\ 


- 


Their   Hearts'  Desire 

"  And  whoever  would  have  thought  it 
of  Bob,  the  deliberate?  "  suggested  Bob's 
brother. 

"  Or  Barbara,  the  reserved,  for  that  mat 
ter,"  supplemented  Mrs.  Strong.  "  But  one 
never  can  tell." 

"  No,  not  when  Fate  and  Santa  Claus 
both  take  a  hand,"  said  the  gentleman  in 
question.  "  But  will  you  kindly  tell  me, 
Mrs.  Strong,  where  one  Barbara  is?" 

"  Upstairs,  I  think,"  she  said,  matter-of- 
factly.  "  And  how  are  you  this  evening?  " 

"  Not  at  all.  Grooms  never  are,  you 
know.  But  when  is  she  coming  down?" 
he  persisted. 

"  The  ceremony  is  at  six,  I  believe,"  she 
responded,  with  studied  indifference,  by  a 
look  referring  the  matter  to  her  husband. 
Then  she  left  them  to  adjust  a  vase  of  lilies 
and  hide  a  smile. 

"  Well,  there's  scarcely  a  minute  more," 
Robert  contended,  trailing  after  her,  watch 

in  hand.     "  And  you  needn't  laugh,"  he 
125 


a 


JST 


«        9  o    » 


*  >-'•'  \  '«r«( 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

added,  encountering  the  trio  of  amused 
glances,  "  for  I  think  on  the  whole  I'm  do 
ing  very  well." 

"  You're  all  right,  Bobby  Belden,"  and 
Mrs.  Strong  patted  his  arm  sympathetically, 
"  but  you  are  funny." 

As  she  finished  speaking,  softly,  from  the 
church,  through  the  medium  of  the  Rector's 
study,  there  came  to  them,  as  from  another 
world,  the  sweetly  solemn  strains  of  Wag 
ner's  Bridal  Song  from  Lohengrin. 

Very  still  they  stood  and  listened,  while 
the  music  grew  in  strength  and  volume, 
charged  with  unspeakable  things. 

Slowly,  solemnly,  one-two-three-four-five- 
six — the  clock  tolled  the  hour.  Henry 
Strong  took  his  place  between  the  waiting 
lilies  and  the  candles,  and  the  bridegroom 
drew  a  little  nearer  to  the  door. 

Soon,  mingled  with  the  organ's  song, 
;  could  be  distinctly  heard  the  high,  sweet 
treble  of  children's  voices  in  joyous  excla 
mation,  growing  more  subdued  and  hushed 

126 


E 

' 


Their  Hearts9  Desire 

as  they  approached.  Then  a  sudden  burst 
of  uncurbed,  gurgling  mirth  from  an  unex 
pected  but  unmistakable  source  fell  upon 
the  air,  and  as  it  faded  away  in  expressions 
of  cooing  felicity,  her  voice  in  crooning  ad 
monition. 

"  Must  be  Auntie  Barbara's  good  boy," 
it  said,  and  then  she  smiled  upon  them  from 
the  doorway.  In  her  arms,  triumphant,  a 
tear-stained,  red-cheeked,  wide-eyed,  night- 
gowned  cherub,  one  chubby  arm  about  her 
neck,  while  from  beneath  the  blanket  that 
enfolded  him,  five  pink  toes  squirmed  in 
ecstacy. 

His  fond  mother  bore  down  upon  them 
with  consternation,  transferring  him  in 
stantly  to  the  arms  of  the  attending  Marga 
ret,  who  administered  his  evening  meal 
without  delay. 

"  Please  let  him  stay,"  pleaded  Barbara. 
"  He  cried  to  come  with  me,  and  I  couldn't 
leave  him  crying,"  and  she  turned  for  Rob 
ert's  justification. 

127 


00* 


\ 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

"  But  your  dress! "  said  Louise,  in  tones 
of  distress,  pulling  out  a  bit  of  rumpled 
lace. 

But  Barbara  didn't  hear  at  all,  for  some 
one  else  was  speaking. 

"  I  am  waiting.     Are  you  ready?  " 

The  music,  and  the  voice,  they  seemed 
almost  as  one,  and  both  enthralled  her.  In 
his  outstretched  hand  she  put  her  own.  It 
trembled  a  little;  still  she  smiled  at  him 
bravely  as  he  led  her  to  "  the  place  of 
execution." 

Once  during  the  ceremony,  just  as  Bar 
bara  was  taking  her  vow  of  fealty,  the 
voice  of  the  youngest  Strong  was  heard 
in  spirited  objection.  It  concerned  the 
proper  adjustment  of  his  bottle,  but 
fitly  interpreted  as  an  expression  of  senti 
ment,  it  did  not  lessen  the  impressive 
sweetness  of  the  service,  and  at  its  close, 
the  bride  kissed  the  guest  in  arms  first 
of  all,  after  which,  satiated  with  con 
quest  and  attention,  and  drowsy  with  warm 
128 


I 


BARBARA 


Their   Hearts'  Desire 

milk,  His  Royal  Highness  was  borne  will 
ingly  to  bed. 

The  hours  following  were  never  to  be 
forgotten  hours.  In  the  absence  of  Dame 
Grundy  and  her  set,  the  rarer  spirits  of  love 
and  perfect  happiness  stalked  fearlessly 
abroad  in  laughter,  tears  unshed  and  honest 
congratulations;  and  more  substantially  evi- 
denced  in  Maria's  delectable  wedding  feast, 
supplemented  later  by  a  generous  service  of 
rice,  old  shoes  and  good  wishes,  a  portion 
of  which  rested  on  the  top  of  the  carriage 
as  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Belden  rode  away. 

After  the  closing  of  the  carriage  door,  ex 
cept  for  inquiries  regarding  her  comfort, 
Robert  left  Barbara  to  herself.  Passively 
she  submitted  to  his  solicitous  care,  dreamily 
content  to  watch  the  procession  of  street 
lamps,  listen  to  the  creaking  wheels  upon 
the  snow,  and  as  the  carriages  passed,  won-  • 
der  who  the  bride  and  groom  were,  and 
whither  they  were  going. 

"'  I'! 

But  as  the  horses  slackened  their  speed 
129 


• 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

to  enter  the  drive,  she  leaned  forward  to 
peer  through  the  half-frosted  window. 

"  Where  are  we?  "  she  questioned  with 
diffidence. 

"  Just  inside  the  gate,  and  if  John  only 
knew!  There,"  directing  her  gaze,  "the 
farther  room  at  the  corner  is  his,  and  the 
one  with  the  light,  immediately  next,  is 
yours.  And  here  we  are.  Step  with  care," 
he  cautioned  playfully,  helping  her  out. 
"  This  delivery  of  valuable  Christmas  pres 
ents  is  beginning  to  wear  on  my  nerves,"  and 
he  put  an  arm  about  her  with  a  fine  air  of 
vigilance.  "  That  will  be  all,  James,  good 
night,"  he  called  over  his  shoulder,  as  they 
ascended  the  steps. 

"  Good-night,  sor,"  came  in  half  con 
gealed  Irish  accents  from  the  box. 

Half  consciously  Barbara  watched  the 
carriage  fade  into  the  darkness,  while  Rob 
ert  slipped  the  key  into  the  latch. 

"  We'll  not  ring,"  he  said,  "  because  I 

want  to  open  the  door  for  you  myself  and — 
130 


;.•;.;.  %^-MV;-> 

Their   Hearts'  Desire 

lock  you  safely  in,"  he  added,  smiling  as  he 
closed  it,  and  adjusted  the  bolt  and  chain. 
"  Now!  "  with  a  deep  sigh  of  contentment. 

She  looked  up  at  him  quite  at  a  loss,  her 
pulses  fluttering.  What  a  tremendous  word 
it  seemed,  and  she  had  none  commensurate 
to  offer. 

Impulsively  she  tendered  him  her  muff. 
He  took  it,  wondering  a  little. 

"  There  isn't  any  place  to  keep  it,"  she 
explained,  looking  helplessly  about,  as  if 
expecting  to  find  wardrobe  facilities  just 


inside  the  door. 


(  We'll  find  a  place,"  he  assured  her,  sup 
pressing  a  smile.  "  But  first  won't  you  come 
in  to  the  fire  and  take  off  your  wraps?  "  and 
he  ventured  to  push  back  the  hood  of  her 
coat. 

Barbara  followed  him  dubiously,  experi 
mentally,  as  it  were,  in  that  highly  wrought, 
sensitive  frame  of  mind  where  in  the  falling 
of  a  leaf  a  die  is  cast.  And  the  man  who 
loved  her,  guessing  as  much,  or  nearly,  de- 


. 


V- 


• 


Their   Hearts'  Desire 

termined  that  her  mood  should  guide 
him. 

He  took  off  his  coat  and  laid  it  across  a 
chair  and  put  her  muff  on  top.  Then  he 
brightened  the  fire  and  turned  the  burner 
in  the  lamp  a  little  higher,  moving  easily 
and  naturally,  scarcely  looking  at  Barbara, 
though  conscious  of  every  move  she  made, 
almost  of  her  breathing,  so  keen  his  thought 
was  of  her. 

At  length  she  spoke.     "  Isn't  it  strange?  " 

"  You  mean  the  room?  " 

"  No,  that  it  isn't — strange,  I  mean.  I 
thought  perhaps  it  would  be.  But — I  feel 
almost  as  though  I  had  been  here  before," 
and  she  looked  up  at  him  for  explanation. 

"  You  have,  many  times.  You  may  have 
forgotten,"  he  conceded,  as  she  demurred, 
"  but  I  have  seen  you  with  my  own  eyes 
for  as  much  as — a  quarter  of  a  minute!  It 
was  a  joy  to  have  you,  dear,  even  for  a  little 
time,  but  such  a  disappointment  when  you 

went  away.     Oh!  you  must  let  me  get  that 
132 


v 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

coat  off,  Barbara,"  he  exclaimed,  starting 
impulsively  toward  her. 

She  gave  him  a  look  that  made  his  fingers 
all  thumbs,  then  heartlessly  left  him  to 
Jf  struggle  with  the  fastening  of  her  wrap, 
while  she  revelled  in  new  knowledge  of  his 
tastes  and  daily  life,  for  everything  in  the 
room  proclaimed  him.  Barbara  began  to 
understand  why  it  was  already  home  and 
not  a  strange  abode,  as  her  eyes  wandered 
with  tender  interest  over  the  carefully 
selected  rugs,  big,  comfortable  chairs  and 
fascinating  rows  of  books,  to  the  big  mahog 
any  table  with  its  splendid  reading  lamp 
and  ready  literature,  and  his  beloved  pipes. 
She  loved  each  and  every  one  herself. 
Then,  casually  appreciating  the  absence  of 
pretty  bric-a-brac,  she  enjoyed  the  restful 
diversion  of  a  few  choice  pictures  and  the 
refreshing  stimulus  of  a  bronze  Napoleon 
and  a  roaring  lion  that  she  longed  to  pat. 

"  No,"  she  breathed,  bringing  her  eyes 

back  to  his  face,  "  it  is  so  like  you,  so  com- 
133 


h 


; 


00  00 


\\ 


o        6  o  • 


• 


Their   Hearts'  Desire 

fortable  and  homelike,  that  I  want  to 
stay." 

"  Even  with  no  diamond  tiaras  and  ruby 
stomachers  in  prospect?  " 

"  Even  so,"  she  said,  her  gaze  wandering 
to  the  dish  of  violets  on  the  table. 

He  wondered,  as,  resting  his  hands  for 
an  instant  upon  her  shoulders  to  stay  his 
arms  from  quite  encircling  her,  could  she 
mean  to  be  so  temptingly  sweet? 

He  took  the  coat  and  carried  it  to  the 
farther  side  of  the  room  and  put  it  with 
his  own;  a  simple  act,  affording  him  some 
degree  of  satisfaction  and  a  moment's  time 
to  renew  his  resolutions. 

Barbara  walked  over  to  the  fire,  observ 
ing  as  she  did  so  a  Flying  Mercury  upon 
the  mantle  shelf.  Quite  like  an  old  friend, 
he  seemed,  and  she  smiled  upon  him  with 
real  affection.  There  had  been  one  in  her 
father's  room  at  home.  She  laid  one  hand 
caressingly  upon  its  base. 

"  Do  you  know,  Robert,"  she  began,  and 
134 


V 


' 


Their   Hearts'  Desire 

then  something,  an  indefinable  agency,  drew 
her  attention  upward,  and  her  eyes  en 
countered  other  eyes,  claiming  recognition 
gently,  but  irresistibly. 

As  though  rebuked,  she  withdrew  her 
hand  and  clasped  it  behind  her  with  the 
other  one  and  retreated  a  step,  but  her  gaze 
never  wavered,  while  intuitive  knowledge 
of  the  pictured  face  oppressed  her. 

"  Do  I  know  what?  "  said  Robert  Belden, 
turning  to  retrace  his  steps.  And  then  he 
grasped  the  situation. 

Barbara  did  not  answer.  Revulsion,  for 
the  moment,  made  her  dumb.  Something 
tightened  about  her  throat — even  the  right 
to  breathe  seemed  suddenly  denied  her. 
"  Why,  oh  why? "  her  heart  cried,  and 
"  Why?  "  the  girlish,  wistful  face  above  her 
questioned,  too. 

How  like  John's  it  was,  she  mused,  and 

a    wave     of     tender    compassion     surged 

within  her,  crowding  out  the  thought  of 

self,   that,   struggling,   spent  itself   in   the 

i35 


yt 


V.i 


^ 


o  o  • 


Their   Hearts'  Desire 

swift  movement  of  passionate  appeal 
with  which  she  sought  her  husband's 
arms.  Clinging  to  him  in  tense  silence 
for  a  time,  at  length,  with  hands  slip 
ping  from  his  shoulders  and  eyes  down 
cast,  she  murmured,  "  I  think — I — am — 
ashamed." 

He  took  the  hands  and  kissed  them  ferv 
ently.  "  You  needn't  be,  God  bless  you! 
But  look  at  me,  Barbara,  look  long,  until 
you're — sure — forever." 

She  answered  with  a  little  wilful  shake 
of  the  head,  a  tremulous  smile  about  her 
lips.  "  Excuse  me,  but  I  shall  not  look — 
at  all,"  she  said.  "  What's  the  use?  "  And 
turning  to  her  own  easy  chair,  she  sank  into 
it  with  an  exquisite  air  of  abandon.  "  I 
think  I'm  ready  for  my  mending  now,"  she 
told  him,  and  the  eyes  she  raised  to  his  were 
cloudless  and  wonderfully  sweet. 

"  No,  I  can't  have  you  sewing  to-night," 
he  remonstrated,  happily,  seeing  she  had 

come  into  her  own  again. 

1^6 


. 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

"  But  the  gloves?  " 

"  Hang  the  gloves!  I  need  a  little  atten 
tion  myself,"  and  he  established  himself  on 
the  arm  of  her  chair,  ready  to  receive  it. 
"Goodness,  but  you're  sweet  I"  he  added 
with  a  sigh,  looking  down  at  her.  But  not 
even  this  remark  brought  the  slightest  recog 
nition  of  his  presence.  "  Now  what  are 
you  thinking  about? "  he  questioned  en 
viously.  "Your  friends,  the  Martians?" 

"  Not — exactly,"  she  hesitated,  smiling 
up  at  him.  "  I  was  only — wondering." 

"  I  thought  perhaps  you  were  regretting 
— some  handsome  Lothario  with  landed  in 
terests  in  Mars.  By  the  way,  I  hope  you're 
prepared  to  give  unlimited  information, 
Mrs.  Belden,  regarding  your  former  resi 
dence,  for  John's  questions  are " 

"  Oh,  but  he'll  recognize  me,  don't  you 
think  he  will?  "  she  interrupted,  "  and  per 
haps  be  disappointed." 

"  How  do  you  mean?  " 

"  Why,  that  I  didn't  come  from  Mars." 


a    o 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

"  He  will  never  think  of  it.  How  could 
he,  when  he  sees  you?  Besides,  I  am  sure 
that  Mars  idea  is  cherished  just  to  offset  the 
contingency  that  a  mother  is  not  available 
here.  Don't  you  see?  " 

"  Perhaps  so,"  meditatively.  "  But  won't 
it  be  exciting?  "  she  went  on,  her  enthusiasm 
growing  as  she  dwelt  on  their  plans  for  the 
morning.  "  I  don't  believe  I  shall  sleep  a 
wink  to-night." 

"  Oh,  but  you  must.  And  I  presume 
you'd  better  go  up  now.  I'll  ring  for  Jane." 
Returning  to  her  side,  he  held  out  his  hands. 
"  Come,  Barbara,"  he  said. 

She  rose  languidly,  her  eyelids  drooping. 
"  Oh,  I  was  so  cozy,"  she  complained. 

"  I  know,"  a  brooding  tenderness  in  the 
eyes  he  bent  upon  her.  "  No  matter  how 
sleepy  children  are,  they  never  want  to  go 
to  bed."  Then,  Jane  answering  his  sum 
mons,  was  given  Barbara's  wraps  and  the 
new  mistress  entrusted  to  her  care.  "  I 
know  that  you  will  see  that  she  is  com- 
138 

4r      Xr      nr       X^      XX     Xr     <& 


' 


Their   Hearts'  Desire 

fortable,"  he  concluded,  as  Jane  moved 
away. 

"  Give  any  further  instructions  you  may 
wish  about  to-morrow,"  he  said,  turning  to 
Barbara.  "  And  now,  good-night,  dear, 
happy  dreams." 

"  Good-night,"  said  Barbara,  but  she 
lingered  till  Jane  turned  to  ascend  the  stairs, 
then  quickly,  as  though  fearing  a  host  of 
witnesses  might  come,  she  raised  her  eyes 
to  her  husband's  face.  "  I  want  to  tell 
you,"  she  said  softly,  little  catches  in  her 
breathing,  "  how  good  you  are — and  how 
much  I  love  you — almost  as  much — Oh-h! 
more  than  all  the  worlds  my  dear!"  She 
finished  with  his  arms  about  her. 

"  I'm  glad,"  was  all  Robert  Belden  could 
find  voice  to  say.  But  in  his  eyes  there  was 
more  than  Barbara  could  fully  comprehend 
of  love  and  tenderness. 

Mounting  the  stairs  a  half  hour  later, 
with  his  wife's  carriage  shoes  tucked  snugly 
under  one  arm,  Robert  Belden  paused  on 
139 


m 

• 

M 

y* 


m 

[ 


i 


m 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

the  landing,  his  attention  arrested  by  a  faint 
noise  in  the  lighted  hall  above,  and  with 
drawing  into  the  deeper  shadows  of  a 
corner,  he  saw  emerge  from  the  guest  room 
next  to  John's,  an  angel! 

He  was  sure  it  was  an  angel,  for  it  had 
the  light  of  Heaven  in  its  face,  despite  the 
fact  it  carried  a  football  and  a  gun  and 
wore  a  flowing,  diaphanous,  lace-trimmed 
negligee. 

With  throbbing  heart,  he  watched  it 
move  towards  John's  half-open  door,  and 
for  a  moment  a  wild  desire  possessed  him 
to  confine  within  his  humanizing  arms  this 
bit  of  spiritual  glory,  football,  gun  and 
all;  but  distrust  of  what  the  penalty  might 
be  for  molesting  a  celestial  being  held  him 
back,  until  the  vision  disappeared,  and  then 
drove  him  in  mad  haste  to  the  safety  of 
his  room. 


8  .1' 


140 


I 


o  ..  • 


1 


//'  ll 


\6 


•41 


Chapter 
5ix 


\\ 


THE  roseate  rays  of  a  but  lately  risen 
sun  shone  on  a  semi-conscious  world,  when 
in  a  corner  room  of  a  big  house  on  G  street 
there  was  a  sudden  upheaval  of  bedclothes, 
arms,  head  and  tousled  hair,  and  John 
Belden,  in  a  final  struggle  with  Morpheus, 
landed  on  his  feet  beside  the  bed.  Then, 
rubbing  his  sleepy  eyes,  he  tried  to  think 
who  or  what  it  was  at  the  door  of  his  con 
sciousness  so  persistently  proclaimed  its 
arrival.  For  the  shadows  of  Morpheus' 
retreating  form  obscured  the  face,  and  his 
sleep-sodden  mind  could  not  recall  the 
name ;  only  its  warmth,  and  cheer,  and  glory 
reached  him,  as  it  clamored  for  admission. 

"  Come,  John,  wake  up,  wake  up,"  it 
called. 

The  importuned  one,  in  blue  and  white 
pajamas,  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  bed,  looking 


. 


60* 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

stupidly  before  him,  his  eyes  fixed  on  a 
well-filled  stocking  suspended  in  mid-air. 
And  that  gradually  became  the  shining 
nucleus  round  which  the  warmth  and  joy 
and  cheer  took  definite  form  and  spelled 
him  "  Christmas."  That  was  it,  it  was 
Christmas  day! 

A  radiant  welcome  shone  in  John's  face, 
but  the  recognition  produced  no  impetuous 
hurrah,  no  customary  war  dance.  A  mys 
tic  hush  subdued  the  commoner  joys  into  a 
harmonious  background  for  the  awe-in 
spiring  presence  of  the  one,  supreme:  the 
mother  that  he  longed  for,  wrote  for, 
dreamed  of,  prayed  for — she  was  first.  And 
now  his  confidence  in  her  nearness,  real  and 
tangible,  intensified  a  hundredfold  the  pre 
vious  superlatives  of  his  childish  thought, 
till  maternal  grace  suffused  the  world. 

Rising  to  his  feet,  with  sanguine  air 
John's  eager  eyes  explored  the  utmost 
corners  of  the  room.  Twice  they  served 

him  in  a  futile  search,  and  then  something 
144 


*    e 


ll 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

hurt  him  dreadfully  inside,  for  he  faced  an 
aching  void.  She — was — not — there! 

Like  a  thunderbolt  out  of  a  clear  sky  it 
came,  striking  John  fair  between  the  eyes. 
Half  dazed,  he  took  one  despairing  look 
under  the  bed,  then  crawled  back  in,  and, 
condensing  his  misery  into  the  smallest  pos 
sible  space,  lay  motionless,  the  covers  drawn 
close  about  his  head. 

Just  what  transpired  beneath  them  it  is 
impossible  to  say,  but  Hope,  ever  alert, 
gathered  her  forces  anew  and  presently 
lured  him  forth  into  the  world  again,  where, 
supported  by  a  feather  pillow  and  her  stal 
wart  arms,  he  found  just  cause  for  laughing 
at  himself. 

"Of  course,  how  silly  he  had  been!" 
He  almost  laughed  aloud.  "  To  expect  to 
find  her  just  any  where,  sitting  up,  too,  when 
she  would  be  tired  and  sleepy,  just  like 
other  folks.  Of  course  she  would."  This 
point  was  most  convincing.  "  Santa  Claus 

had  put  her  some  place  to  rest.     Why,  any 
i 


IE. 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

one  would,"  he  argued  impatiently.  "  He 
would  himself,  he  knew,  only,  he  couldn't 
quite  make  up  his  mind  just  where." 

He  thought  of  the  comfortable  couch  in 
the  library,  and  again  of  the  empty  beds 
upstairs.  There  was  one  in  the  room  right 
next  to  his.  John's  heart  gave  a  bound  at 
the  thought  and  all  it  might  entail,  and  a 
sudden  project  moved  him. 

Full  to  bursting  with  hope  and  the  ex 
citement  of  immediate  action,  he  gave 
the  covers  a  mighty  kick  and  once  more 
scrambled  out  of  bed.  But  this  time  he 
knew  where  he  was,  and  why,  and  just  what 
he  meant  to  do. 

Across  the  room  hung  a  heavy  curtain. 
It  concealed  a  door,  unused  and  always  kept 
locked,  but  only  yesterday,  during  a  strenu 
ous  cleaning,  it  had  been  opened  for  a  time, 
so  the  opportunity  it  afforded  for  secret  in 
vestigation  was  fresh  in  John's  mind.  It 
led  into  a  closet,  which,  in  turn,  opened 

into  the  adjoining  room,   thus  making  it 
146 


- 


"t\      j-  j 


\ 


Their   Hearts'  Desire 

possible  for  John  to  investigate  that,  at 
least,  without  a  chance  of  meeting  any  one 
who  might  ask  questions,  a  thing  he  shrank 
from  even  at  this  decisive  hour. 

Hitching  up  his  pajama  trousers  from 
the  droop  occasioned  by  the  vigorous  dis 
charge  of  bedclothes,  John  walked  quickly 
over  to  the  curtain,  pulled  it  aside,  and  care 
fully  turned  the  key  in  the  lock.  He  paused 
to  look  furtively  behind  him,  and  then, 
grasping  the  knob  with  both  hands,  slowly, 
cautiously,  with  abated  breath,  opened  the 
door  and  crept  into  the  closet. 

About  him  all  was  dim  and  uncertain. 
He  thought  he  smelled  flowers,  but  he  was 
not  sure,  and  all  that  he  could  see  were 
seeming  shadows,  that,  soft  and  yielding  to 
his  touch,  filled  him  with  delicious  though 
vague  intimations  of  impending  joy. 

"  Oh,  if  he  should  find  her — if  he 
should!" 

With  outstretched  hands,  John  made  his 
way  to  the  farther  door.  He  found  it 
147 

*  X^^^^A^^^T^Tx 


,-- 


v 


o  o  • 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

slightly  ajar,  and  promptly  applying  one 
well-squinted  eye  to  the  opening,  descried 
a  pile  of  white  packages  tied  with  scarlet 
ribbon,  and  the  end  of  an  open  trunk.  He 
gasped.  It  had  never  occurred  to  him  that 
there  would  be  one. 

Trembling  with  excitement,  he  gently 
pushed  against  the  door.  Slowly  it  swung 
upon  its  hinges,  gradually  revealing  a  chair 
almost  covered  with  a  pile  of  indiscriminate 
fluffy  whiteness,  and  then  another,  and  on 
that  reposed  two  white  slippers  and  a  pair 
of  stockings,  also  white. 

The  slippers  John  indifferently  associ 
ated  with  shoe-shop  windows,  but  the  stock 
ings  warmed  his  heart.  They  meant  some 
thing.  They  really  belonged  to  some  one. 
They  had  been  worn,  he  could  plainly  see 
by  the  suggestive  fulness  and  the  unmis 
takable  imprint  of  garter  clasps. 

It  all  went  through  his  head  in  a  twink 
ling,  and  his  mind,  stimulated  by  the  di 
gested  evidence  of  a  trunk  and  contents  of 
148 

*5f 


I 

n 


1*L 


ft 


OH-II!     YOU'RE    MY — REALLY — MOTHER,  AREN'T 
YOU  ? '  " 


So 
his 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

two  chairs,  demanded  something  more. 
he   proceeded   to   once   again   enlarge 
range  of  vision. 

A  prolonged  and  ominous  squeak  ensued. 

John's  eyes  grew  big  with  alarm.  He 
caught  his  breath  and  held  it.  He  also 
pressed  his  bare  toes  in  stringent  anxiety 
against  the  polished  floor,  while  waiting  for 
the  walls  to  fall,  or  something  equally  in 
convenient. 

But  nothing  happened  !  The  same  death 
like  stillness  prevailed.  The  world  slept 
on.  And  at  length  John  risked  a  comfort 
able  breath,  and  at  intervals  another,  and 
another,  until,  a  certain  degree  of  poise 
restored,  anxiety  was  lost  in  contemplation 
of  a  vase  of  flowers  upon  the  dressing 
table. 

The  vase  had  been  there  yesterday,  he 
knew,  but  the  flowers,  the  little  purple  flow 
ers  —  John's  face  grew  luminous.  As  in  a 
dream,  he  remembered  seeing  them  before, 

only  that  was  years,  and  years  ago,  and 
149 


f: 


Their   Hearts'  Desire 

many  miles  away,  and  now — to  have  them 
here? — Tears  gathered  in  his  eyes,  for  the 
light  was  dazzling. 

He  could  not  understand  at  all,  only — 
some  one  must  have  brought  them ;  some 
one  must  have  put  them  in  the  vase;  some 
one  had  undressed  and  gone  to  bed,  of 
course,  since  there  is  no  other  place  to  go, 
divested  of  one's  clothes. 

And  now  Logic  took  a  hand  and  led  him 
without  delay  through  the  glittering  maze 
of  complex  thought  and  feeling  that  en 
gulfed  him,  past  the  outstanding  door,  to 
an  unobstructed  view  of  the  mahogany 
four-poster. 

One  single  glance  sufficed,  and  John 
clapped  both  hands  over  his  mouth  to  sup 
press  a  gigantic  whoop,  and  a  lot  of  smaller 
ones  persisting  in  its  wake,  and  which,  de 
nied  escape,  made  him  writhe  in  silent  glee. 
For  she  had  brought  the  flowers  herself — 
from  Jo's — and  gone  to  sleep  again,  and 

right  in  the  middle  of  a  smile.     But  John 

150 


s$ter 

\\ 

/A  /*  \* 


<f  * « 


\ 


« 


\\ 


Their   Hearts'  Desire 

failed  to  notice  she  had  forgotten  to  entirely 
close  one  eye. 

In  his  consciousness  surcharged  with  joy, 
there  was  no  room  for  thought  of  how  or 
why  she  came  to  be  there.  Neither  was 
there  solicitude  for  the  mother  he  coveted. 
Why  should  there  be,  since  somehow  all 
the  longing  of  his  heart  was  satisfied. 

Softly  he  approached  the  bed.  Oh,  he 
wanted  to  grab  her;  he  fairly  ached  to;  but 
it  might  not  be  exactly  polite,  so  he  only 
ventured  to  handle  the  lacy  softness  of  her 
gown  and  touch  with  the  tip  of  one  finger 
the  tiny  band  of  shining  gold  upon  her 
hand.  And  just  at  this  most  inopportune 
time,  Nature,  without  warning,  expostu 
lated  in  a  vigorous  sneeze.  It  fairly  cleaved 
the  air.  John  dropped  as  though  it  had 
been  a  bullet  and  he  the  victim;  and  lying 
just  as  close  to  the  floor  as  he  could  get,  he 
heard  the  soft  rustle  of  the  bedclothes 
above  him,  and  he  knew  the  supreme  mo 
ment  had  come. 

151 


©  » 


•: 


Their  Hearts'  Desire 

Over  the  side  of  the  bed  slowly  descended 
a  heavy  braid  of  bronze-brown  hair.  Then 
appeared  a  smiling  face,  surmounting  a 
milk-white  throat  and  breast,  and  a  voice 
said, 

"  My  dear!  I'm  afraid  you're  catching 
cold.  Don't  you  want  to  get  in  bed  with 
me?" 

John  wriggled  to  his  knees,  his  lustrous, 
worshipping  eyes  fixed  on  the  face. 

"  Oh-h !  you're  my  —  really  —  mother, 
aren't  you?"  he  breathed  ecstatically  and 
with  sublime  assurance,  for  who  else  would 
tender  such  an  invitation! 

"  I — belong  to  John  Belden,"  she  said, 
and  held  out  to  him  her  arms. 


• 


THE  END 


e    o 


^1 


o       e  oo 


o  «  o  o 


O  o  O  O 


